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UNDER  THE  STORKS'  NEST. 


A   EOMAE"OE. 


FROM     THE     GERMAN     OF 

A.  E.  KATSCH, 


BY 

EMILY    K.    STEINESTEL. 


PHILADELPHIA: 

J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT    &    CO. 

1875. 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1875,  by 

J.   B.   LIPPINCOTT    &    CO., 
In  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress  at  Washington. 


PT 
JLt 

KISTIIHE 


TO   THE    EEADEE. 


THE  beauty  of  a  translation  consists  in  the  har- 
mony of  the  guise  in  \vhich  it  appears.  Much  of  the 
spirit  of  the  original  is  often  lost  through  the  im- 
possibility of  transmitting  idioms  and  the  wit  or  sense 
contained  in  dialect  or  provincialism.  To  entertain 
the  reader,  and  make  him  forget  he  is  perusing  a 
translation,  in  the  smooth  flow  of  the  language  into 
which  it  has  been  adopted,  is  the  first  duty  of  a 
translator. 

E.  E.  S. 

ST.  Louis,  1875. 


UNDER   THE   STORKS'    NEST. 


CHAPTER   I. 

ABOUT  nine  o'clock  in  the  evening,  Judge  Berndal, 
of  Koppelfelden,  hurriedly  entered  his  open  carriage, 
impatient  to  return  to  his  home,  some  two  miles  dis- 
tant. 

Business  impossible  to  postpone  to  the  morrow  had 
detained  him  long  after  the  usual  business  hours. 

"  Take  the  forest  road,"  he  said  to  his  coachman. 
"It  is  quite  as  good  as  the  main  road  at  this  season  of 
the  year,  and  we  gain  half  an  hour's  time." 

"Just  so,  just  so,"  returned  that  worthy,  nodding  his 
head  in  approval,  cracking  his  whip,  and  animating 
his  horses  with  an  encouraging  sound  from  his  tongue, 
as  he  obediently  guided  them  into  the  narrow  road  indi- 
cated by  his  master. 

This  avenue  was  guarded  by  rows  of  white-robed 
birch-trees,  standing  sentinel-like  at  the  entrance  of  a 
densely-grown  pine  forest,  between  whose  massive 
bodies  an  occasional  hundred-year-old  gnarled  oak 
asserted  his  supremacy  by  pertinaciously  entangling 
his  branches  in  the  tops  of  the  dark-crowned  pines, 
obstinately  prohibiting  the  moon  and  stars  from  in- 
dulging in  any  inquisitive  prying  into  the  road  below. 


6  UNDER    THE  STORKS'    NEST. 

But  they  could  not  prevent  a  silvery  ray  from  stealing 
in  between  the  branches  here  and  there  and  skipping 
lightly  along  the  path,  or  climbing  like  a  playful  squir- 
rel up  the  weather-worn  bark  of  some  tree,  playing 
hide-and-seek  with  bough  and  twig ;  or  with  lightning 
speed  it  wojuld  hop  from  tree  to  tree,  hiding  an  instant 
under  the  foliage,  then  leap  down  on  to  some  mossy 
spot  by  the  roadside,  dancing  like  a  little  elf  a  moment, 
then  run  gleefully  about  among  the  shadows  formed  by 
thousands  upon  thousands  of  little  leaves,  that  were 
quivering  in  a  vain  struggle  to  get  away  and  join  the 
merry  tournament,  and  sent  their  shadows  down  by 
way  of  proxy. 

The  more  the  stately  grumblers  shook  their  tall 
heads,  and  the  more  threateningly  they  motioned  with 
their  long  arms,  the  wilder  became  the  dance,  the  more 
wanton  became  the  silvery  sprites ;  the  little  shadows 
joined  the  merriment  as  if  in  spite,  and  recklessly  they 
danced  and  played  in  harmless  confusion. 

Those  morose  and  surly  grumblers  need  not  shake 
their  heads  in  contentious  disapproval.  Youth  must 
have  its  play. 

And  why  not,  when  it  is  conducted  with  modesty 
and  honor?  Moreover,  the  air  was  mild  and  agreeable; 
a  grateful  atmosphere  after  the  oppressive  heat  of  a 
July  day. 

Keeping  the  silent  merry-makers  company  were 
myriads  of  beetles  and  insects,  flying  in  the  air,  or  rest- 
ing on  the  rusty  bark  of  the  trees,  or  alighting  softly 
on  the  ground,  casting  their  phosphorescent  rays  in 
thoughtful  precaution  along  the  road,  a  beacon  against 
accident. 


UNDER    THE  STORKS'    NEST.  7 

Judge  Berndal's  vehicle  presented  a  very  respectable 
and  comfortable  appearance.  It  was  elegantly  uphol- 
stered, and  finished  in  a  style  as  rare  at  that  time  as  it 
was  desirable. 

Improved  causeways  and  carriage-springs  were  more 
noted  for  their  absence  than  people  who  owned  an 
equipage  of  any  sort  were  willing  to  admit,  even  in  the 
face  of  murderous  jolting  and  danger  of  broken  bones. 

"Belton,  my  pipe!"  said  the  judge,  feeling  in  his 
own  pocket  for  the  necessary  articles  with  which  to 
light  it. 

His  pockets  were  of  leather,  and  he  never  could  be 
induced  to  have  them  made  of  any  other  material.  At 
the  advanced  age  of  eighty,  he  used  to  boast  that  he  had 
never  lost  an  article  in  his  life,  simply  because  he 
never  had  been  subjected  to  the  civilization  of  a  torn 
pocket. 

"Here  she  is,  judge,  loaded  to  the  brim,"  said  Bel- 
ton,  turning  partly  around  and  handing  the  silver- 
mounted  meerschaum  to  his  master,  who  leaned  back 
in  the  cushions  to  enjoy  his  comfort  and  his  pipe. 

He  was  anxious  to  reach  home,  and  bore  the  jolting 
and  discomfort  with  tolerable  resignation,  and  only  an 
occasional  impatient  exclamation  escaped  him  when  an 
unusual  rough  contact  of  the  front  of  the  carriage 
and  his  face  disturbed  him,  or  an  uncommon  flight 
among  the  branches  overhanging  the  road  unseated 
him  for  a  moment. 

But  where  are  his  thoughts? 

Far,  far  in  advance  of  the  nimbly-trotting  horses; 
heedless  of  obstacles  and  idle  contemplation,  they  reach 
home. 


8  UNDER    THE  STORKS'   NEST. 

Not  pausing  in  confab  or  greetings  in  the  cheerful 
sitting-room,  they  fly  direct  up-stairs,  and  halt,  breath- 
less and  listening,  before  a  certain  door,  beneath  whose 
dark  portal  a  faint,  glimmering  ray  of  light  shines,  a 
melancholy  streak,  forcing  its  way  into  the  dark  ante- 
chamber. 

A  faint  and  frail  gleam  of  hope  indeed ;  but  it  says 
to  the  anxious  thoughts  in  waiting, — 

"See,  I  am  still  burning.     All  is  not  lost!" 

It  gives  them  wonderful  comfort  and  courage,  and, 
with  a  gigantic  effort,  they  press  through  the  narrow 
space  and  enter  the  room, 

"Now,"  says  the  judge  to  his  advance  couriers, 
"take  observations." 

It  is  a  large  gable  room:  the  walls  are  tinted  yellow; 
evidently  it  is  a  sleeping-apartment.  The  window 
opposite  the  door  is  heavily  curtained ;  before  it  stands 
a  table,  on  which  a  lamp  is  burning,  shaded  so  deeply 
by  its  green  screen  that  the  room  presents  a  dismal 
appearance ;  but  from  it  the  hopeful  beam  is  cast  across 
the  door-sill,  escaping  into  the  dark  ante-chamber,  greet- 
ing the  new-comers  encouragingly. 

It  is  a  chamber  of  sickness. 

The  table  is  covered  with  bottles,  or  vials,  and  little 
gayly-papered  boxes,  labeled  "  Every  two  hours  one 
teaspoonful,"  or,  "  To  be  given  as  directed."  Keeping 
them  company,  they  find  a  cup,  teaspoons,  a  teapot,  and 
a  spirit-lamp,  for  preparing  warm  drinks. 

In  one  corner  of  the  room  stands  a  large  bedstead, 
and  nestled  lovingly  beside  it  is  a  little  willow  cradle. 

On  the  other  side  of  the  room  stands  a  crib. 

It  is  emp'y. 


UNDER   THE  STORKS'   NEST.  9 

But  a  few  days  ago  it  had  been  occupied  by  a  bright 
boy  of  four  years,  the  oldest  son  of  Judge  Berndal. 

The  heart's  delight  of  his  parents,  developed  phys- 
ically beyond  his  years,  precocious  and  soulful,  his 
brown  curls  framing  in  the  picturesque  beauty  of  a 
healthy,  beaming  countenance,  large  blue  eyes  gazing 
fondly  yet  mischievously  about  him,  the  rosy  lips, 
with  their  sweet  kisses  and  singular  questions,  the 
childish  laughter  and  shouts  of  glee, — all  these  clung 
to  the  memory  of  that  empty  crib. 

Ah!  never  again  shall  that  mother's  hand  smooth 
those  wavy  curls;  never  again  caress  the  blooming 
cheeks,  or  see  her  happy  face  reflected  in  those  tender, 
beautiful  eyes;  never  again  press  kisses  on  the  ruby 
mouth.  The^oft,  warm  arms  will  never,  never  more 
cling  about  her  neck  in  the  childish  abandonment  of 
love. 

Hushed  is  the  laughter  and  silent  his  voice  forever. 

A  few  hours  before  his  death  he  had  complained 
and  drooped ;  the  anxious  parents  had  sent  for  the 
physician,  and  before  his  arrival  the  little  fellow  was 
delirious. 

The  doctor  stood  beside  the  little  bed,  gazed  long  at 
the  restless  sufferer,  observed  the  rapid  pulse,  the  quick, 
short  breathing,  the  broken  exclamations,  and  thought- 
fully rubbed  his  chin  with  his  gold-headed  cane. 

"  He  is  sick,  he  is  very  sick ;  but  we  will  hope  for 
the  best,"  he  softly  muttered  to  himself,  wrote  a  pre- 
scription, and  followed  the  father,  who  hastened  out  of 
the  house  after  the  medicine,  saying,  "I  shall  return 
shortly." 

He  did  return,  but  his  patient  was  no  better.    Other 

A* 


10  UNDER    THE  STORKS'    NEST. 

applications  and  prescriptions  followed  without  effect. 
The  next  morning  when  he  called,  the  pretty  blue  eyes 
were  already  set,  the  uncertain  breathing  was  soon  fol- 
lowed by  the  last  terrible  death-gasp.  One  long  sigh, 
the  little  body  gave  one  spasmodic  struggle.  The  boy 
was  dead. 

The  mother  cast  herself  on  the  corpse.  With  a  heart- 
rending cry  she  pressed  it  to  her  breast  &nd  covered 
the  pale  face  with  hot  kisses  and  burning  tears;  she 
would  not,  could  not,  believe  this  was  all  that  was  left 
her  of  the  living,  blooming  child  that  only  yesterday  at 
this  hour  was  chasing  in  joyous  health  through  the 
house, — this  cold,  motionless  hull  lying  in  her  arms. 

At  last,  realizing  the  terrible  truth,  she  cried  aloud, 
in  her  grief, — 

"Dead!  Yes,  dead!  Oh,  my  God,  my  God!  why 
have  you  done  this  thing?"  Again  and  again  she 
caressed  the  cold  body,  begging  to  be  permitted  to  die 
with  him  in  her  unutterable  sorrow. 

The  judge  stepped  up  to  her,  and,  placing  his  arm 
about  her,  said,  in  a  voice  choked  with  suppressed 
tears, — 

"Lottie,  dear  Lottie,  listen  to  me." 

She  looked  up  at  him  absently,  and  he  repeated, — 

"  Listen  to  me,  Lottie !" 

She  seemed  to  comprehend  ;  she  tenderly  placed  the 
child  on  the  pillows,  and  cast  herself  on  her  husband's 
breast,  crying, — 

"Ferdinand,  he  is  dead,  our  boy;  and  I  will  die 
too!" 

"  No,  Lottie,  not  dead ;  he  has  but  now  awakened  to 
everlasting  life!  He  is  not  lost, — we  shall  find  him 


UNDER   THE  STORKS'   NEST.  H 

again.  Be  comforted.  The  Lord  gave,  the  Lord  has 
taken  away,  blessed  be  his  name  to  all  eternity." 

Then  he  led  her  quietly,  with  little  resistance,  to  the 
other  side  of  the  room,  and,  standing  beside  the  cradle, 
he  said, — 

"What  will  become  of  him,  what  of  me,  if  you 
leave  us?" 

The  woman  sank  on  her  knees  beside  the  slumbering 
infant,  sobbing,  "Lord,  my  Lord!  let  me  keep  this 
one ;  spare  this,  my  last,  my  only  one !  Ferdinand, — 
forgive.  I  will  not  die ;  I  want  to  live, — for  you — for 
him." 

And  the  pale,  smiling  angel — the  dead  boy — was 
robed  in  gleaming  white,  and  flowers  were  placed  over 
and  around  him.  Another  bed  was  prepared,  in  the 
garden  where  all  the  blossoms  are  gathered  together 
that  fall  from  the  ever-blooming  tree  of  humanity,  to 
ripen  into  fruitfulness  in  that  life  eternal. 

That  is  why  the  little  crib  with  the  railings  was 
empty  this  evening. 

On  the  other  side  of  the  room  is  the  basket-cradle ; 
beside  it  is  seated  a  tall,  slender  female  figure,  bowed 
over,  listening  to  the  fault  breathing  of  the  little 
babe. 

Her  lovely,  amiable  face  is  pale,  in  startling  contrast 
to  the  deep-black  hair  that  crowned  her  white  brow, 
and  the  heavy  but  beautifully-arched  eyebrows,  over 
the  naturally  bright,  roguish  dark  eyes,  that  now  were 
languid  with  weeping,  like  the  dull  glimmering  of  stars 
through  a  misty  cloud. 

It  was  the  bereaved  mother  of  the  dead  boy,  and  the 
anxious,  prayerful  mother  of  the  sick  infant  lying  be- 


12  UNDER    THE  STORKS'   NEST. 

fore  her.  It  was  between  three  and  four  months  old, 
this  wee,  sickly  object,  this  burning,  fever-stricken 
shadow  over  which  she  was  bending.  How  fervently 
she  kisses  the  pale  lips,  the  thin  little  cheeks,  and 
withered  hands  !  Just  so  had  the  poor  boy  been  from 
the  hour  of  his  birth.  And  though,  in  a  measure, 
blameless,  yet  self-reproach  was  mingled  with  her 
caresses  when  she  thought  of  the  cause  of  his  suf- 
fering. 

They  were  at  a  concert,  when  she  was  taken  prema- 
turely ill.  Her  husband,  alarmed  beyond  measure, 
hastened  home  with  her ;  the  hour  was  late,  the  servant 
had  retired,  and  neither  thought  of  waking  her  before 
the  judge  ran,  with  all  dispatch,  for  nurse  and  phy- 
sician. 

The  first,  fortunately,  was  obtainable,  and  promised 
immediate  attendance.  The  doctor  was  away,  and  not 
to  be  found. 

Nearly  an  hour  had  been  consumed  in  vain  searching 
before  the  breathless  man  returned  home,  and  found,  to 
his  terror  and  consternation,  the  nurse  still  standing 
before  the  door. 

She  had  pulled  the  bell  nearly  off,  but  no  one  had 
opened. 

With  trembling  hands  the  door  was  unlocked. 

The  servant-girl  was  sleeping  the  sleep  of  youth  and 
health. 

Her  mistress  had  reasons  for  not  responding. 

They  found  her  in  an  insensible  condition  on  the 
sofa.  At  her  feet,  under  the  table,  benumbed  with 
cold,  unable  to  cry,  scarcely  breathing,  lay  the  little 
object  she  had  given  birth  to. 


UNDER    THE  STORKS'    NEST.  13 

Frightened  and  confused,  the  judge  gazed  helplessly 
at  the  nurse,  who,  with  woman's  adaptability  and  good 
sense,  came  to  his  relief. 

"  First  arouse  the  servant,  then  be  off,  and  don't  come 
back  without  a  doctor,"  ordered  she. 

The  judge  obeyed  the  good-natured  but  determined 
woman  so  promptly  and  quickly,  that  long,  long  after, 
his  wife  often  playfully  threatened  to  send  for  Mrs. 
Wurpel,  the  nurse,  when  he  neglected  some  request,  or 
resisted  and  combated  her  opinions. 

The  good  woman  has  long  since  gone  to  her  rest, — 
where  there  is  neither  courtship  nor  marriage, — and 
consequently  she  is  emancipated  from  the  arduous  duties 
of  a  profession  that  subjected  her  to  much  loss  of  rest 
here  below. 

Mrs.  Wurpel's  experience  told  her  that  mother  and 
child  were  in  danger,  and  she  did  not  hesitate  which  to 
succor  first. 

To  be  sure,  she  hastily  picked  up  the  infant,  and, 
wrapping  it  in  the  first  cloth  that  came  handy,  laid  it 
on  a  chair,  and  gave  her  entire  skill  and  attention  to  the 
mother,  without  another  thought  to  the  young  stranger, 
whose  advent  into  this  most  beautiful  of  worlds  had  met 
with  such  a  remarkably  cold  welcome. 

Her  endeavors  were  crowned  with  success.  When 
the  judge  returned  with  the  physician,  they  were  taken 
to  the  patient,  who  had,  with  the  assistance  of  the  girl, 
been  carried  to  her  room,  and  was,  "under  the  circum- 
stances," doing  very  well. 

Somewhat  pale  and  exhausted,  but  smiling,  she 
greeted  her  husband,  who  tenderly  pressed  her  white 
hand  to  his  lips  and  heart. 

2 


14  UNDER   THE  STORKS'   NEST. 

"Where  is  my  babe?  Bring  me  my  babe/' pleaded 
the  young  mother. 

Quick  as  .an  arrow  sent  from  its  bow,  but  noiseless 
as  the  wind  that  chases  the  cloud  from  the  blue-vaulted 
sky,  sped  Mrs.  Wurpel  from  the  room,  and  down  the 
stairs  into  the  apartment  where  lay  the  neglected  child. 

Death  stared  at  her  from  its  little  face,  but  the  ener- 
getic woman  was  not  frightened  into  hopelessness;  she 
understood  her  business,  and  battled  with  her  old  enemy 
for  the  life  of  this  insignificant  morsel  of  humanity;  and 
the  more  obstinately  he  struggled  for  possession  the 
harder  she  labored  to  gain  dominion,  until  she  triumphed, 
and  the  grim  monster  departed. 

Peace  to  thy  ashes,  thou  valiant  woman ;  two  lives 
hast  thou  saved  in  one  night.  How  calm  must  have 
been  thy  slumbers  when  the  dawn  saw  thee  taking  thy 
much-needed  rest ! 

A  few  weeks  later  found  Mrs.  Judge  Berndal  well 
again ;  but  not  so  with  the  child. 

He  lived, — that  was  all  that  could  be  said  of  the  little 
one.  Although  three  months  had  passed,  each  day 
brought  with  it  the  dread  of  death,  each  night  the 
mother  watched,  fearing  the  dawn  would  bear  witness 
of  her  sorrow  for  the  dead. 

The  doctor  shook  his  head  quite  wisely,  and  seemed 
astonished  to  find  life,  when  next  he  came. 

Oh,  mother-love,  mother-love !  There  is  naught  else 
on  earth  can  equal  your  sacrifices  and  renunciation, 
your  tenderness  and  faith,  your  courage  and  self-de- 
nial. All  that  is  noble  and  great,  intrepid  and  pure,  is 
combined  in  you.  The  worshipful  things  of  this  world 
are  to  you  like  the  starry  host  of  night,  whose  littleness 


UNDER    THE  STORKS'    NEST.  15 

is  lost  in  the  brilliance  of  the  god  of  day, — such  is  your 
love,  O  mother !  the  glory,  warmth,  hope,  the  sun  of 
our  being.  Nothing,  nothing  can  compare  to  your 
love. 

The  preceding  thoughts  of  Judge  Berndal  had  found 
the  mother  hovering  thus  over  her  babe ;  but  they  were 
not  aware  that  she  had  watched  beside  it  for  hours, 
almost  wild  with  grief  and  remorse,  no  longer  turning 
around  to  look  at  the  crib,  opposite  where  she  had 
wrung  her  hands,  crying, — 

"  My  God !  my  God !  how  is  it  possible  that  my  bright, 
strong,  blooming  boy  must  be  taken  from  me  without 
warning,  and  the  frail  life  that  I  had  almost  resigned 
from  its  birth  should  linger  in  its  hapless  misery !" 
Then,  as  if  stricken,  she  rushed  to  the  cradle,  took  the 
babe  in  her  arms,  and,  in  frantic  penitence,  covered  it 
with  kisses,  exclaiming, — 

"  Forgive  me,  forgive  me,  you  poor  little  afflicted 
one !  I  did  not  love  him  more ;  I  love  you  just  the 
same  !  Oh,  no,  no,  no !  you  shall  not  die ;  I  will  watch 
and  tend  and  nurse  you  back  to  life,  to  health,  to  be 
your  mother's  joy !  Oh,  my  child,  I  do  not  love  you 
less  than  him  !" 

She  carried  him  pressed  to  her  breast,  kissing  him 
again  and  again,  when  the  little  one  opened  his  eyes 
and  looked  at  her  as  if  he  comprehended  the  pain  at 
her  heart.  A  change  came  over  the  wasted  cheeks,  a 
playful  movement  of  the  pale  lips,  and,  for  the  first 
time  in  its  existence,  the  child  smiled. 

Oh,  incomprehensible  heart  of  a  mother,  that  can  be 
so  moved  by  a  smiling  infant !  Grief,  pain,  and  misery 
seemed  turned  to  heavenly  joy. 


16  UNDER    THE  STORKS'    NEST. 

"  He  smiled  !  he  laughed  !"  the  astonished  and  happy 
mother  exclaimed.  "  Oh,  iny  babe,  all  that  is  left,  my 
only  one,  smile  again  !  just  once  more,  my  sweet!  then 
all  will  be  well;  you  will  live,  my  precious  angel!" 

Again  the  child  smiled.  Consoled  and  'happy,  she 
walked  about  the  room,  and  when  her  glance  rested  on 
the  empty  crib,  her  heart  no  longer  pained  her  with 
that  hopeless  anguish  of  inconsolable  bereavement ;  she 
no  longer  saw  him  wrestling  with  death,  or  lying  stark 
and  cold,  but  radiant  and  glorified  with  joy,  he  smiled 
at  her  in  the  company  of  angels,  dead,  yet  living,  the 
same,  and  yet  more  beautiful. 

She  realized  now  that  he  was  not  lost  to  her, — his 
spirit  was  with  her  at  all  times.  She  knew  why  the 
little  sick  one  on  her  arm  laughed  to-day  for  the  first 
time. 

The  other  darling  no  longer  needed  her  care :  he  was 
to  remain  with  her  only  as  a  blissful  memory ;  he  had 
transferred  to  the  little  sick  brother  all  the  care,  tender- 
ness, and  duties  of  her  mother-heart,  and  with  a  pure, 
sweet  resignation  she  accepted  the  trust,  and  promised 
her  first-born  to  fulfill  faithfully  the  obligation.  She 
felt  strengthened  and  comforted. 

Did  that  angel  know  how  much  she  would  need  both 
strength  and  patience,  that  the  time  would  come  when 
years  of  trials  and  vexations  would  prove,  sorely  test, 
the  solemn  promise  ? 

When  the  mother  looked  again,  the  angel  vision  was 
gone,  but  the  transfigured  form  of  her  boy,  with  the 
holy,  happy  salutation  in  his  shining  orbs,  remained 
with  her,  buried  in  her  heart  to  the  end  of  life. 

But  the  child  in  her  arms  began  to  droop  and  fret ; 


UNDER    THE  STORKS'    NEST.  17 

her  whole  attention  was  needed;  sitting,  walking,  or 
standing,  it  was  all  the  same ;  medicine,  nothing  availed. 

The  child  was  dying,  and  yet  he  had  smiled  to-day 
for  the  first  time  ! 

Her  solicitude  became  greater  momentarily,  but  she 
dared  not  leave  him,  fearing  the  faint  spark  of  life 
would  be  extinguished ;  she  dared  not  trust  her  anx- 
ious eyes  to  leave  his  face,  for  fear  they  would  miss  the 
last  breath  she  expected  him  to  take  with  each  labored 
effort. 

She  had  sent  for  the  doctor,  but  he  had  been  called 
some  miles  out  in  the  country.  She  prayed  eagerly  for 
the  return  of  her  husband.  Hour  after  hour  went  by, 
sorrowful,  fearful  hours,  passed  in  hoping  for  the  best 
and  enduring  the  distressing  uncertainty,  before  her 
the  visage  of  death,  behind  her  the  little  crib  that  re- 
mained tenantless  the  first  time  this  evening;  but  the 
feeble  ray  of  light  still  shone  over  the  door-sill,  guard- 
ing its  portal,  as  if  saying,  "  See  the  light  burn ;  there 
is  hope  yet." 

We  have  taken  the  liberty  of  following  the  thoughts 
of  Judge  Berndal  over  the  illuminated  door-sill,  into 
the  room,  and  now  that  we  are  aware  of  the  cause  of 
his  anxiety  to  get  home,  we  can  return  to  them,  who, 
during  our  absence,  have  not  slackened  their  horses' 
speed,  and  are  advancing  rapidly  towards  us. 

We  meet  at  a  point  where  forest  and  ocean  almost 
join ;  the  road  leads  along  the  border  of  one  and  shore 
of  the  other,  until  we  come  to  the  bridge. 

"  Ah  !  splendid  !  wonderful !"  exclaimed  the  judge, 
just  as  the  carriage  left  the  woods  and  entered  the  road 
leading  to  the  city. 

2* 


18  UNDER    THE  STORKS'    NEST. 

Belton  turned  completely  around  in  his  seat,  looking 
at  his  master  beaming  with  pleasure,  saying,  with  mod- 
est pride,  "Just  so,  judge,  just  so;  but  I  know  well 
enough  what  our  horses  can  do  and  our  wagon  can 
stand.  I'll  venture  to  turn  them  safely  on  a  plate  at 
full  speed.  Yes,  sir !" 

Belton  was  under  the  impression  that  the  compli- 
mentary exclamation  uttered  by  the  judge  when  they 
came  in  view  of  the  ocean  scene  was  intended  for  him 
and  his  skillful  management  at  this  critical  turn  in  the 
road. 

"  I  know  it,  Belton ;  you  are  a  famous  driver,"  said 
the  judge,  smiling  quietly.  He  was  too  good-natured 
to  disturb  or  destroy  the  happiness  that  glowed  on  the 
broad  countenance  of  the  faithful  fellow,  like  a  golden 
sunset  in  the  western  horizon. 

Belton  carried  the  supposed  compliment  in  his  heart 
as  long  as  he  lived.  He  ever  after  boasted  that  his 
master,  Judge  Berndal,  was  the  best  judge  of  horse- 
manship in  the  country.  "  Indeed,"  he  would  inva- 
riably finish  with, — "indeed,  you  can  take  my  word 
for  it  he  knows  what's  what.  I  remember  one  night 
I  was  driving  him  home  over  a  terrible  road,  and  all 
at  once  my  master  slapped  me  on  the  shoulder,  for 
sheer  delight,  saying,  '  Splendid,  Belton !  perfectly 
glorious  !  The  king's  coachman  could  not  have  done 
better.'" 

Belton,  exalted  in  his  own  esteem,  guided  his  horses 
with  exceeding  care,  but  at  the  same  time  in  a  manner 
quite  in  keeping  with  his  genius.  The  lines  wore 
held  by  hands  that  knew  their  business.  The  very 
whip  seemed  to  partake  of  the  spirit  of  the  master,  and 


UNDER    THE  STORKS'    NEST.  19 

proclaimed  a  superiority  by  repeated  reports,  "  Behold  ! 
here  comes  one  who  understands  his  business."  Belton 
was  happy  as  a  king. 

He  needed  all  his  boasted  talent  ere  long ;  just  before 
they  came  to  the  bridge  the  space  between  the  road 
and  the  water  was  obscured  by  weeds  and  shrubs,  and 
here  the  horses  became  unmanageable,  and  it  was  just  as 
much  as  their  positive  driver  could  do  to  make  them 
understand  that  good  behavior  was  a  most  desirable 
thing;  whatever  cause  they  might  have  for  shying,  it 
was  unwarrantable  in  a  pair  of  full-blooded  horses  and 
a  driver  quite  comme  il  faut. 

Belton  of  course  was  the  victor.  The  object  that 
had  startled  the  animals  was  something  white  that  rose 
suddenly  above  the  bushes  and  as  quickly  disappeared 
again,  followed  by  a  singularly  pitiful  cry. 

Judge  Berndal  ordered  a  halt,  and  alighted  from  his 
carriage  to  seek  the  cause  of  the  noise. 

The  white  object  proved  to  be  a  woman's  under- 
garment of  finest  linen ;  a  puff  of  wind  had  raised  it 
from  where  it  now  hung  peacefully  on  the  bush.  A 
rather  singular  phenomenon  at  such  an  hour  and  such 
a  place,  but  nothing  to  discompose  a  courageous  man. 

The  cry  also  was  no  delusion :  it  came  from  the  mouth 
of  a  babe  lying  on  a  pile  of  female  garments  in  the 
shadow  of  the  bushes,  among  which  glistened  a  Pom- 
padour most  elegantly  embroidered  in  beads  and  floss 
and  silver  filigree. 

The  child,  a  boy,  probably  between  four  and  five 
months  old,  had  evidently  been  there  for  some  time ;  it 
was  hoarse  and  weak  from  crying ;  his  voice  had  lost 
that  penetrating  shrillness  and  energy  which  healthy 


20  UNDER   THE  STORKS'   NEST. 

children  display  when    nature  demands   nourishment, 
regardless  of  the  most  disagreeable  circumstances. 

Facing  this  situation,  it  is  not  to  be  supposed  our  ex- 
cellent judge  should  feel  particularly  comfortable. 

To  be  watched  and  rewarded  like  Endymion  was  for 
the  loving  husband,  even  Judge  Berndal,  not  exactly 
detestable,  but  to  be  met  like  a  \vatchful  Actaeon,  if 
perchance  the  owner  of  those  garments  should  rise  out 
of  the  bushes  suddenly,  the  idea  was  distasteful,  vio- 
lating, in  the  opinion  of  the  judge,  that  strict  regard 
for  decorum  and  good  manners  natural  to  him. 

He  was  about  to  return  noiseless  as  he  had  come, 
when  the  pitiful  fretting  of  the  child  began  again,  and 
the  thought  occurred  that  perhaps  all  was  not  as  it 
should  be  here. 

He  hesitated  a  moment,  then  called  out,  "  Woman, 
where  are  you  ?  Come  forward  !  Must  that  poor  child 
cry  itself  to  death  ?" 

All  remained  silent;  he  called  again:  "Woman, 
answer  me,  and  I  will  go  my  way  again !" 

No  reply.  Again  and  again  he  called  in  vain,  until 
a  horrible  mistrust  entered  his  mind,  and  he  ran  to  the 
edge  of  the  water,  hunted,  called  louder,  came  back, 
searched  through  bush  and  shrub,  but  no  trace  of  living 
creature  could  he  find:  only  an  occasional  bird  startled 
from  its  rest  by  the  beating  of  the  bushes. 

Belton,  in  the  mean  time,  sat  quietly  holding  his  horses 
and  permitting  himself  to  endure  the  unusual  exertion 
of  thinking,  and  nearly  unsettled  his  reason  by  won- 
dering for  whose  benefit  his  master  could  possibly  be 
testing  the  strength  and  vigor  of  his  lungs. 

When  he  heard  him  halloo,  "  Where  are  you  ?     An- 


UNDER    THE  STORKS'   NEST.  21 

swer!"  Belton  thought  he  must  have  lost  his  way  or 
got  bewildered,  perhaps  bewitched.  Belton  knew  such 
things  had  occurred  to  some  very  excellent  people  in 
his  day.  So  he  cracked  his  whip  until  the  frightened 
horses  reared  and  plunged,  and  hallooed  back, — 

"  Just  so,  judge,  j ust  so.  Here  I  am,  right  here  on  the 
spot." 

"Very  well,  Belton,"  called  back  the  judge,  shortly; 
"just  wait  until  I  return." 

Belton  did  as  he  was  ordered,  without  annoying  his 
brains  further  on  the  subject,  until,  chancing  to  turn  his 
head,  he  perceived  his  master  coming  with  his  arms 
covered  with  all  kinds  of  female  paraphernalia,  while 
pressed  close  to  his  breast  he  held  a  squalling  infant 
that  he  was  trying  to  pacify  with  that  peculiar  hushing 
sound  mothers  make  in  lullaby. 

Judge  Berndal  possessed  some  theoretical  knowledge, 
acquired  as  a  man  and  father,  and  in  the  present  instance 
made  practical  use  of  it. 

Belton's  mouth,  which  at  its  smallest  presented  an  un- 
usual facial  breach,  now  opened  with  an  incomprehen- 
sible and  enormous  expanse,  while  his  watery  blue  eyes 
stared  with  an  expression  of  such  undisguised  stupidity 
that  he  looked  more  like  a  wooden  nut-cracker  than  a 
being  of  flesh  and  blood. 

"  Wa-wa-what  is  that, — a — a — child  ?"  he  stammered. 

"Yes,  Belton,  a  child;  I  fear  greatly  a  motherless  one. 
Take  these  things  and  help  me  arrange  them.  Now 
give  me  the  child.  There;  drive  with  all  possible  speed 
for  home  now." 

Half  an  hour  later,  just  as  the  bell  of  St.  John's 
struck  the  hour  of  twelve,  the  steaming  horses  drew  up 


22        UNDER  THE  STORKS'  NEST. 

in  front  of  the  house;  and  just  as  the  judge  entered  the 
front  door,  bearing  in  his  arms  the  stranger-child,  the 
door  of  the  yellow  room  opened  rapidly,  and  the  little 
ray  of  light  on  the  sill  became  a  large  volume,  spread- 
ing its  beams  over  the  hall  and  stairway,  vainly  trying 
to  follow  the  form  of  the  anxious  wife  who  hastened  to 
meet  her  husband. 

Blessed,  cherished  ray  of  light!  we  have  been  friends 
many  years.  Long  may  he  brighten  the  doorway  of 
that  house ! 

Do  you  ask  why  I  am  so  interested  in  a  poor  little 
insignificant  ray  of  light?  I  am — no,  I  was,  that  help- 
less, motherless  babe  brought  over  its  welcoming  thresh- 
old in  the  midnight  hour. 

Mrs.  Berndal  rushed  down  the  steps,  and,  with  a  glance 
beyond  the  outline  of  his  form,  threw  her  arms  around 
her  husband  with  such  a  pressing  embrace  that  the  wee 
third  party  lying  between  the  two  was  roused  from  his 
slumber,  and  gave  decided  evidence  of  a  fine  voice  for 
infant  eloquence  by  shrieking  lustily. 

The  answering  cry  from  the  surprised  lady  was  cer- 
tainly not  astonishing. 

"For  Heaven's  sake,  what  have  you  there,  Ferdi- 
nand?" she  exclaimed,  when  she  had  recovered  breath 
to  speak. 

"A  child.  Do  you  not  hear?  But  let  us  go  up-stairs, 
and  I  will  explain." 

A  few  moments  later  the  door  of  the  yellow  room 
closed  on  the  three. 

"Thank  the  Lord  that  you  are  here  at  last !  Bernhard 
has  been  so  ill  again,  I  have  suffered  terrible  anxiety 
about  him;  and  the  doctor  did  not  come,  and  you  re- 


UNDER    THE  STORKS'   NEST.  23 

mained  so  long.  He  is  sleeping  now.  Hush,  you  little 
screecher!  you  will  wake  him!  What  child  is  this?" 

"  It  is  hungry,  I  expect ;  I  found  it  near  the  high 
bridge,  crying.  I  am  under  the  impression  its  mother 
has  found  a  watery  grave  there." 

"You  poor  little  thing!  And  hungry,  is  it?  Quick, 
my  dear,  give  it  to  me ;  let  me  quiet  him.  Poor  babe ! 
he  must  be  about  the  age  of  our  Bernhard." 

As  she  spoke,  she  placed  him  at  her  breast,  and  the 
starved  infant  did  more  than  justice  to  the  meal  thus 
placed  before  him ;  the  sobbing  that  followed  his  cries 
succumbed  to  the  satisfaction  of  the  occupation  that 
now  required  all  his  energies. 

The  judge  returned  to  Bel  ton,  and  together  they 
brought  the  articles  of  wearing-apparel,  so  strangely 
found,  into  the  house ;  then  he  related  his  extraordinary 
adventure  to  his  wife. 

An  hour  after,  the  house  was  hushed  and  silent :  the 
judge  and  his  wife  slept ;  Bernhard  slumbered  in  his 
cradle,  as  if  determined  he  would  have  nothing  further 
to  do  with  death  and  dying ;  the  little  stranger  rested 
quietly  in  the  crib  bedstead,  as  if  the  loss  of  parents  was 
a  matter  that  could  not  possibly  affect  him. 

Early  the  following  morning  Judge  Berndal  notified 
the  police  authorities  of  the  circumstance.  An  investi- 
gation followed ;  the  water  was  dragged,  and  about  a 
hundred  feet  from  the  place  where  the  child  was  found 
they  fished  out  the  body  of  a  woman.  She  could  not 
have  been  more  than  twenty  years  of  age, — a  beautiful 
young  woman, — evidently  in  good  circumstances,  judg- 
ing from  the  articles  of  jewelry  found  on  her  person, — 


24  UNDER    THE  STORKS'    NEST. 

ear-rings,  a  plain  gold  wedding-ring,  and  two  other 
rings  set  with  diamonds  of  considerable  value. 

The  small  white  hands  had  not  been  accustomed  to 
labor,  and  the  clothing  was  of  the  finest  material  and 
of  fashionable  make,  giving  evidence  of  the  wearer's  re- 
finement and  station. 

A  satchel  that  lay  beside  the  child  when  found  con- 
tained an  elegant  pocket-handkerchief,  marked  M.  T., 
— the  same  letters  on  the  linen  underwear, — a  bunch  of 
keys,  a  gold  watch  and  chain,  a  purse  containing  some 
silver  and  gold  pieces,  a  memorandum-book  containing 
papers  to  the  value  of  several  thousand  dollars,  a  little 
withered  bouquet  of  violets  and  wild  flowers,  wrapped 
about  with  a  glossy  curl  of  short  hair,  a  torn  letter,  a 
portion  of  which  was  gone,  written  in  feminine  chirog- 
raphy, — the  date,  address,  and  signature  were  missing; 
the  few  lines  read  as  follows : 

.  .  "  terrible  fate,  dear  Maria ;  but  do  not  de- 
spair, be  brave  for  the  sake  of  your  Albert,  who  needs 
you  more  than  ever  since  the  death  of  your  husband. 
I  shall  look  for  you  as  soon"  .  . 

On  the  other  side  was  written : 

.  .  .  "quite  alone  in  this  large  house.  Charles 
entered  the  service  heart  and  soul  at  the  first  call  of  the 
King  of  Prussia  to  arms.  We  can  comfort  each  other, 
dear  sister-in-law,  for  who  can  tell  how  soon  I  too  shall 
mourn  a  beloved  husband's  loss,  and"  .  .  . 

Little  information  could  be  gathered  from  these 
broken  sentences  beyond  the  surmise  that  the  recipient 
of  the  letter  was  a  widow,  that  her  son's  name  was 
Albert,  that  Charles  was  her  brother,  and  that  the 
writer,  his  wife,  had  invited  her  to  make  a  visit.  It 


UNDER    THE  STORKS'   NEST.  25 

was  more  than  probable  that  she  had  undertaken  this 
journey  with  the  intention  of  going  there.  But  who 
was  she?  who  was  her  brother?  where  did  she  come 
from?  and  where  was  she  going?  There  was  no  clue 
by  which  the  mystery  could  be  unraveled. 

A  garrulous  servant,  or  porter,  from  the  tavern  on 
the  road  near  the  high  bridge,  volunteered  the  follow- 
ing information : 

"  Yesterday,  about  noon,  a  coach  halted  at  the  '  Star ;' 
an  old  lady  and  a  young  lady,  and  a  lady  with  a  baby 
were  the  only  passengers.  The  last-mentioned  appeared 
weak  and  sick,  complained  of  the  heat,  and  said  she 
was  unable  to  continue  her  travels.  She  requested  to 
see  my  mistress,  and  I  heard  her  ask  if  she  could  be 
accommodated  for  the  night.  Then  the  mistress  she 
asked  her  to  look  at  her  rooms,  and  she  showed  her  the 
rose  room.  You  know  it,  don't  you,  judge? — No.  4, 
with  the  painted  ceiling  and  the  flowered  border.  And 
mightily  pleased  she  was,  and  told  the  driver  to  fetch 
her  trunk  right  in  the  house ;  and  she  not  only  made 
him  a  nice  little  present,  but  paid  him  in  full  to  Mor- 
stadt,  where  the  coach  was  going  and  she  expected  to 
stop,  full  five  miles  farther. 

"  And  when  she  bade  her  fellow-passengers  farewell, 
they  said,  '  Good-by,  Mrs.  Doctor' — something,  I  don't 
know  what.  Then  she  went  directly  to  No.  4.  I  carried 
up  the  traveling  trunk,  and  she  asked  if  she  would  be 
able  to  secure  transportation  to  Leipsic  or  Dresden 
any  time  the  following  day ;  and  just  as  I  was  saying, 
'  Certainly,  Mrs.  Doctor,  certainly,'  my  mistress  she 
came  with  some  lunch  for  the  lady  and  milk  for  the 
baby,  and  she  told  her  the  same  thing.  When  I  left 


26  UNDER    THE  STORKS'   NEST. 

the  room  she  was  lying  on  the  sofa,  and  looked  mightily 
pleased  at  the  little  one,  who  was  on  the  bed  kicking 
up  his  heels  and  squirming  contentedly.  She  said  she 
needed  rest,  then  she  would  be  in  a  condition  to  travel 
to-morrow. 

"  She  must  have  slept  until  about  seven  o'clock,  when 
she  ordered  a  light  supper,  and  said  she  would  require 
nothing  more  that  night. 

"  Later  in  the  evening  I  saw  her  in  the  garden ; 
when  she  left  it  I  cannot  say ;  the  evening  was  fine, 
and  we  were  so  busy  with  visitors  that  none  of  us  gave 
a  thought  to  the  strange  lady,  supposing  of  course  when 
she  got  tired  of  the  garden  she  went  back  to  her  room. 

"  You  can't  imagine  our  fright  this  morning  when 
we  discovered  that  she  and  the  child  were  missing,  the 
bed  and  everything  untouched.  We  can't  explain  it  at 
all.  My  master  and  mistress  are  in  such  a  state  about 
it,  that  such  a  thing  should  have  happened  in  their 
house ;  they  sent  me  and  three  others  out  to  see  if  we 
can't  find  some  traces  of  her." 

"  But  the  trunk  is  still  there?"  asked  the  judge,  trust- 
ing its  contents  would  cast  some  light  on  the  affair. 

"  To  be  sure,  judge,  the  trunk  is  still  there." 

At  this  moment  the  corpse  of  the  unfortunate  woman 
was  found  and  brought  to  shore,  and  the  man  from  the 
"  Star"  recognized  their  guest  of  yesterday. 

The  remains  were  taken  in  charge,  and  the  judge  and 
police-officers  betook  themselves  to  the  tavern  to  con- 
tinue their  investigations. 

The  contents  of  the  trunk  were  simply  wearing-ap- 
parel for  mother  and  child. 

All  inquiry  and  advertising  proved  fruitless,  beyond 


UNDER    THE  STORKS'   NEST.  27 

the  little  information  gained  from  the  driver  of  the 
coach  with  whom  she  came  to  the  tavern.  He  did  not 
know  her  name,  but  gave  the  address  and  name  of  the 
other  two  lady  passengers.  They  in  turn  testified  that 
when  they  entered  the  coach  the  unfortunate  woman  and 
her  babe  were  the  occupants  before  them,  and  during 
the  morning's  conversation  they  discovered  from  her 
remarks  that  she  was  a  widow,  her  husband  a  physician 
who  had  very  recently  died  of  typhoid  fever,  and  that 
she  was  on  her  way  to  relatives  in  Saxony.  They  had 
no  recollection  of  any  names  being  mentioned. 

With  this  limited  cognizance  of  facts  the  investigation 
was  exhausted. 

The  unknown  mother  found  a  resting-place  in  the 
church-yard,  beside  the  grave  of  the  child  whose  empty 
crib  received  her  infant.  And  Judge  Berndal  was  her 
only  mourner. 

None  knew  her,  and  no  one  missed  her  in  that  city 
where  she  was  buried,  least  of  all  her  own  child. 
From  the  moment  his  little  head  rested  on  the  breast 
of  the  judge's  wife  and  his  tender  form  pressed  the  pil- 
lows of  that  vacant  little  bed,  her  bereaved  heart  adopted 
the  young  foundling. 

It  seemed  as  if  God  and  her  first-born  sent  him  to 
console  her,  and  her  husband  could  not  find  it  in  his 
heart  to  part  them. 

And  he  was  satisfied.  The  singular  circumstances 
that  united  the  dead  and  the  living  seemed  brought 
about  by  an  influence  that  appeared  providential.  The 
child's  very  helplessness  appealed  to  all  that  was  kind 
and  sympathetic  in  Judge  Berndal's  nature. 

He  became  his  legal  guardian  through  the  sanction 


28  UNDER    THE  STORKS'   NEST. 

of  the  law ;  and  the  orphan  found  father,  mother,  and 
brother  in  the  home  their  hearts  opened  to  him. 

The  event  was  soon  forgotten.  Who  was  supposed 
to  take  much  notice  of  such  a  trifling  matter  as  a  strange 
woman's  death,  or  a  forsaken  child,' when  daily  thou- 
sands upon  thousands  of  children  were  bereft  of  fathers 
and  homes  ?  What  weight  had  those  two  objects  in  the 
scale  by  which  human  life  was  weighed  in  that  terrible 
bloody  struggle  for  liberty  in  the  year  1813? 

People  ceased  to  remember,  after  a  time,  that  Albert 
was  not  in  reality  as  in  seeming  the  oldest  and  beloved 
son  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Berndal. 

The  boy  thrived,  unconscious  of  the  mystery  that 
enveloped  his  parentage.  His  youthful  heart  was 
spared  the  knowledge  of  his  outcast  condition  and  his 
real  mother's  unhappy  death,  that  would  have  been  a 
baneful  thorn  to  all  his  boyish  joys ;  his  playmates,  per- 
chance, would  have  used  the  subject  to  oppress  him 
with  the  undeserved  shame  of  his  position. 

How  often  has  not  a  painful  yet  thoughtless  remark, 
uttered  in  deriding  anger  between  children,  cast  a  shadow 
of  indescribable  sorrow  over  the  whole  future  of  the 
unfortunate  at  whom  it  was  hurled !  He  who  utters 
them  scarcely  comprehends  their  force,  but  their  object 
receives  the  cruel  dart.  It  remains,  and  subtly  racks 
heart  and  brain  until  understood,  and,  like  the  worm 
in  the  bud,  it  destroys  the  perfect  bloom.  The  sensitive 
soul  wounded  in  youth  never  recovers. 

Fortunately,  the  domestics  in  the  house  at  the  time  of 
Albert's  advent  changed  their  abode  soon  after.  Belton, 
whose  father  died  about  this  time,  returned  to  his  home 
in  another  part  of  the  province,  and  took  with  him  for 


UNDER    THE  STORKS'   NEST.  29 

wife  the  maid-servant.  Their  successors  remained  in 
ignorance  of  the  matter,  and  consequently  could  not 
gossip  about  it. 

He  was  such  a  strong,  healthy  boy,  he  could  easily 
pass  for  an  older  brother  to  the  delicate,  suffering  Bern- 
hard,  until  they  were  three  years  of  age,  when  the 
latter  also  began  to  develop  in  health  and  spirits,  and 
our  family  increased  by  the  arrival  of  a  sister,  who 
was  named  Matilda,  and  later,  another,  who  was  called 
Martha. 

It  was  at  the  time  of  her  birth  that  my  earliest 
recollections  serve  me;  all  that  occurred  before  is  not 
unlike  fleeting  shadows  that  memory  cannot  grasp. 

On  that  day  I  clearly  remember  of  having  formed  a 
tender  regard  for  Mrs.  Wurpel ;  and  a  monstrous  paper 
of  sweetmeats  that  she  divided  between  us,  and  told  us 
that  the  stork,  had  brought  us  a  little  sister,  had,  in  fact, 
thrown  the  poor  little  thing  down  the  chimney,  paper 
of  candy  and  all,  and,  on  the  condition  that  we  were  quiet, 
well-behaved  children,  we  might  eat  them  all  up,  but 
not  go  into  mamma's  room  until  she  came  to  show  us  our 
new  sister. 

We  promised,  and  remained  faithful  until  the  last 
bonbon  had  been  devoured;  then  we  became  wild  for 
just  one  peep  at  her.  At  last  we  were  permitted  to 
enter,  only  one  glance,  and  we  were  sent  into  the  garden, 
promising  to  keep  "mousie  quiet,"  and  immediately  set 
up  an  unearthly  shouting  to  the  storks  on  top  of  the 
house  for  some  more  sisters.  We  were  possessed  of  a 
fearful  longing  for  them  since  the  discovery  that  the 
little  things  could  fetch  such  remarkably  large  candy- 
parcels;  the  storks  also  came  in  for  their  share  of  flat- 

3* 


30  UNDER    THE  STORKS'    NEST. 

tery  and  praise  since  the  important  knowledge  so  re- 
cently made  of  their  power. 

For  days  and  months  and  years  we  begged  in  vain, 
until  the  identical  little  sister  joined  her  voice  with  ours 
in  pleading,  but  without  avail. 

Our  home  was  an  old-fashioned,  strong-built,  gable- 
roofed  house,  with  great  square  fire-places.  When  Judge 
Berndal  first  occupied  it  with  his  bride  a  pair  of  storks 
built  their  nest  on  the  chimney  of  the  kitchen;  and 
when  the  old  ones  brought  food  for  the  young,  it  not 
uufrequently  occurred,  as  they  greedily  seized  at  the 
provision,  it  fell  from  their  bills  down  the  chimney  to 
the  hearth;  and  as  worms,  toads,  or  insects  were  not 
desirable  dainties  on  the  family  table,  either  the  cooking 
apparatus  or  the  storks  had  to  be  removed.  The  storks 
did  not  seem  inclined  to  change,  so  arrangements  were 
made  by  which  our  bill  of  fare  would  not  be  surpris- 
ingly increased  by  the  unexpected  addition  of  a  toad,  a 
squirming  lizard,  or  an  appetizing  number  of  worms. 

Such  curiosities  we  had  often  noticed  flying  down 
the  chimney,  but  never  another  palatable  paper  of  sweet- 
meats or  dear  little  sister  did  they  grant  us. 

'  For  thirty  years  our  storks  returned  with  the  spring, 
and  then  a  spring  came  and  brought  us  its  usual  greet- 
ing, but  not  our  storks.  I  cannot  forget  that  year;  it 
was  a  fatal,  unhappy  one  for  us  all. 

In  vain  the  judge  and  his  wife  watched  for  their 
storks.  They  did  not  return ;  their  nest  was  destroyed, 
and  the  last  fragments  of  the  ruins  were  scattered  by  the 
winds.  It  was  a  sad,  sad  day  for  the  two  old  people 
under  that  roof. 


UNDER    THE  STORKS'   NEST.  31 


CHAPTER   II. 

IN  looking  into  the  past,  calling  memory  to  mirror 
the  scenes  of  my  youth,  I  cannot  help  reflecting  on  the 
changes  that  have  taken  place. 

The  world  appeared  so  different  then,  sinless  and 
harmless,  childlike  and  merry.  The  summer  seemed 
warmer  and  sunnier,  the  winter  brought  more  snow  and 
ice.  Nothing  looks  to-day  as  it  did  then.  Nature  has 
not  changed,  but  people  have  wonderfully,  at  least  the 
outward  form  has  varied. 

Then  we  were  on  the  threshold  of  another  century, 
and  some  of  the  customs,  manners,  and  fashions  of  the 
old  clung  to  it  with  a  pertinacity  that  excited  ridicule, 
and  to  us  children  appeared  phenomenal.  Already 
the  ostentatious  manner  of  dressing  was  being  super- 
seded by  the  regimental  fashion  of  to-day,  and  it  was 
no  longer  possible  to  distinguish  an  individual's  station 
in  life  by  the  peculiarity  of  his  costume. 

Where  are  those  wonderful  old  gentlemen  who  re- 
minded one  of  some  well-preserved  dried  flowers  in  the 
heart  of  a  fresh  bouquet  ? — those  pilgrims  from  the  other 
century,  with  the  powdered  heads  and  silk  knee-breeches 
and  shining  buckles,  and  their  gayly-embroidered  waist- 
coats, and  their  remarkable  coats  with  their  enormous 
steel  buttons,  supported  by  the  long  Spanish  cane,  with  its 
pearl  or  porcelain  head  reaching  to  the  face  of  its  owner  ? 

Where  are  those  grave  gentlemen  who  could  not  be 


32  UNDER    THE  STORKS'    NEST. 

induced  to  part  with  the  beloved  pig-tail  that  trailed  so 
honestly  down  their  backs,  to  the  inexhaustible  amuse- 
ment of  us  young  folks  ? 

Where  are  those  ancient  dames  that  promenaded  daily 
by  our  windows, — those  tender,  faithful  guardians  of 
three  or  four  lazy,  snarling,  snappish,  growling  little 
"  pugs,"  with  their  brown  fur,  and  crop-ears,  and  black, 
flat,  velvet  noses,  above  which  the  round,  glistening 
bullet  eyes  protruded?  And  where  are  the  dogs  them- 
selves ? — soon  they  will  be  a  myth,  and  none  remain  to 
tell  their  eyes  have  beheld  a  veritable  "  pug." 

And  those  little  old  women  who  made  the  streets  so 
lively  every  Sabbath,  before  and  after  church,  with  their 
short  costumes  of  all  colors,  surmounted  with  head-gear 
in  the  shape  of  caps,  whose  ruffles  partook  almost  of 
the  nature  of  wings,  while  others  again  carried  on  their 
heads  miraculous  objects  called  head-dresses ;  in  one 
hand  they  carried  a  hymn-book,  in  the  other  was  clutched 
an  umbrella? 

And  where  are  those  umbrellas,  those  portable  roofs, 
those  family  screens  ?  The  thing  by  that  name  we  carry 
to-day  would  not  protect  the  border  of  the  cylindrical 
object  that  graced  the  powdered  head  of  a  gentleman 
of  the  olden  time.  The  silken  bonnet  of  his  dame 
would  scarce  find  room  beneath  it. 

What  has  become  of  all  those  little  lanterns  that, 
with  the  coming  of  dusk,  danced  on  all  sides  in  the 
hands  of  pedestrians,  whose  cunning  glimmer  guided 
their  footsteps  safely  to  their  homes  ? 

Tell  me,  if  you  can,  where  are  all  those  well-favored, 
substantial,  corpulent  people,  those  venerable  citizens, 
with  their  round,  prominent  stomachs  and  their  good- 


UNDER    THE  STORKS'   NEST.  33 

natured,  fat  faces,  crowned  by  tlie  honorable  night-cap ; 
and  those  plump  ladies,  whose  chins  were  sufficiently 
double  to  admit  of  another  countenance  being  built 
from  the  surplus,  and  who  passed  the  summer  days  in 
the  shady  atmosphere  of  the  cellar  to  prevent  the  heat 
from  sacrificing  them? 

Have  they  become  a  myth  also  in  this  restless  age, 
that  knows  so  little  of  quiet  it  has  no  time  to  dream 
of  repose,  that  finds  the  world  too  small  and  steam  too 
slow? 

AVe  hear  complaints  about  the  heartlessness  of  this 
generation.  That  is  not  just.  How  can  we  expect  our 
hearts  to  expand  and  develop  under  the  miserable  pro- 
tection of  our  starved  exterior  ?  In  the  perpetual  chase 
and  chaotic  bustle  of  life  to-day,  how  can  we  grow  a 
double  chin,  or  cultivate  a  righteous,  honest  convexity 
of  person  ? 

We  were  a  happy,  harmonious  family  ;  \ve  advanced 
to  the  years  of  manhood  and  womanhood  in  the  sun- 
shine of  a  peaceful  home ;  our  parents  never  indulged  in 
bitter  contentions  or  weightier  quarrels,  that  left  their 
traces  on  our  conduct.  Such  altercations  as  sometimes 
happened  between  us  were  immediately  investigated  by 
our  mother,  and  judicially  settled,  the  real  offender 
brought  to  the  necessary  justice;  however  unimportant 
the  squabble  proved,  it  still  taught  us  civility  towards 
one  another,  and  consequently  obviated  children's  strife 

I  will  not  weary  the  reader  by  reciting  the  history 
of  my  youth.  Only  one  incident  will  I  relate,  recent 
events  having  brought  it  to  my  mind  with  unexpected 
force. 


34  UNDER    THE  STORKS'    NES.T. 

We  were  about  fourteen  years  old  when  father  took 
us  on  a  regular  tramp  through  the  country.  It  being 
our  first  journey  beyond  the  limits  of  our  own  town, 
naturally  Bernhard  and  I  were  enchanted  with  our  good 
fortune.  The  second  day  of  our  travels  brought  us  to 
Potsdam,  where  father  intended  visiting  a  friend  of  his 
university  days, — a  minister,  living  in  the  vicinity  of 
the  Church  of  the  Holy  Ghost;  and  we  asked  permission 
to  leave  him  there  and  visit  a  swimming-school  in  the 
neighborhood  in  the  mean  time.  It  was  granted,  with 
the  command  to  report  at  our  hotel  at  the  expiration  of 
an  hour. 

As  we  passed  the  church  we  observed  an  open  door, 
and  Bernhard  suggested  that  we  explore  the  building. 
The  door,  however,  did  not  lead  into  the  sanctuary  but 
into  the  bell-tower,  whose  spire  reached  three  hundred 
feet  above  the  church.  This  opportunity  to  view  the 
city  from  the  belfry  was  not  to  be  lost.  Without  hesi- 
tation we  went  up  into  the  tower,  where  we  found 
carpenters'  implements,  and  an  open  space  leading  to 
the  outside;  we  crept  through,  and  found  a  scaffold- 
ing erected  reaching  to  the  very  top.  It  was  noon : 
evidently  the  workmen  had  gone  to  dinner,  which  also 
accounted  for  the  open  door  below.  The  view  was 
grand  from  this  position  ;  but  we  were  not  satisfied.  On 
the  spire  was  a  large  golden  ball  or  globe.  In  the  centre 
of  this  was  an  iron  rod,  on  the  extremity  of  which 
glittered  an  ornament  representing  the  sun.  To  climb 
on  to  that  ball  was  our  object.  It  would  hold  only  one 
at  a  time ;  Bernhard  went  up  first,  and,  as  I  surveyed 
the  earth  beneath,  I  could  see  the  crowd  of  people  that 
had  collected,  and  the  windows  raised  in  every  house, 


UNDER    THE  STORKS'   NEST.  35 

and  people  gazing  up  at  us.  Bernhard  could  barely 
touch  the  gilded  sun,  and  exclaimed,  as  he  made  the 
effort,  "  It  is  quite  loose  I"  When  he  came  down  I 
went  up,  and,  being  taller,  I  could  place  my  hand 
on  the  ornament  easily.  It  faced  east  and  west,  and 
I  had  the  satisfaction  of  turning  it  to  face  north  and 
south. 

The  excitement  below  was  increasing,  and  we  thought 
it  advisable  to  slip  out  of  it  with  all  possible  diligence, 
and  not  long  after  we  were  in  swimming  and  keeping 
our  own  counsel. 

A  little  behind  time  we  reached  the  hotel,  where,  at 
the  dinner-table,  the  guests  were  discussing  our  silly 
trick.  A  gentleman  speaking  to  father  remarked, — 

"The  daring  young  scamps,  I  should  like  to  have 
the  pleasure  of  dressing  their  jackets  soundly  with  my 
cane  I" 

I  nudged  Bernhard  slyly,  whispering,  "  You  would, 
eh?"  but  father  looked  at  us  sharply,  saying,  impress- 
ively,— 

"  Aha !  Do  you  happen  to  know  the  boys  ?  It's  lucky 
they  disappeared  when  they  did,  after  scaring  the  whole 
town  with  their  Satanic  tricks :  the  police  were  after 
them  !" 

Forty  years  after,  I  had  occasion  to  visit  Breslau.  I 
had  promised  to  deliver  a  verbal  message  to  a  certain 
lady  there  during  my  stay.  I  called,  was  presented  to 
the  lady's  two  daughters,  and,  before  I  had  an  oppor- 
tunity to  discharge  my  commission,  the  lady  said, — 

"  Pardon  me,  sir,  but  are  you  not  the  gentleman  who 
turned  the  sun  ?" 

To  say  that  I  was  astounded  will  not  express  my  feel- 


36  UNDER    THE  STORKS'   NEST. 

ings.  I  stuttered  and  stammered  awhile,  and  at  last 
managed  to  say,  "Really,  madam,  I — I — am  not  an 
astronomer!" 

The  young  ladies  endeavored  with  suffocating  polite- 
ness to  disguise  their  laughter,  and  looked  from  my 
dumfounded  countenance  into  the  face  of  their  mother, 
then  gave  vent  to  an  irrepressible  shout  of  mirth,  in 
which  the  old  lady  joined, — and  I  did  too,  though  rather 
faintly. 

"Oh,  my!  oh,  my!  what  must  you  think  of  us?" 
she  exclaimed.  "How  stupid  I  am!  e  A  thousand 
pardons,  dear  sir.  I  meant  to  ask,  were  you  not  the 
boy  who  turned  the  sun  on  the  spire  of  the  Holy  Ghost 
Church  in  Potsdam  ?" 

Memory  grasped  the  situation.  And  she  explained 
that  she  was  a  niece  of  the  minister  my  father  visited 
at  that  time,  and  happened  to  be  in  Potsdam,  and 
witnessed  the  scene  from  the  window. 

How  the  scrapes  of  our  youth  follow  us! 

Father  was  a  strict  disciplinarian.  Card-playing  was 
prohibited.  The  girls  had  their  friends,  and  we  had 
ours;  and  they  were  always  welcomed  by  our  elders  in 
the  home  circle,  but  they  objected  to  our  leaving  home 
often  to  visit  others. 

Thus  it  happened  that  our  house  was  the  resort  for 
evening  amusements.  The  girls  were  excellent  per- 
formers on  the  piano.  Bernhard  played  the  violin  admir- 
ably. We  had  singing  and  dancing  almost  every  winter 
evening.  Often  when  we  were  waltzing  mother  would 
exclaim,  "Oh,  my  carpets!  You  wild  set,  you  are  ruin- 
ing my  carpets!"  Then  some  of  the  young  men  would 
catch  her  in  their  arms  and  whirl  around  the  room  with 


UNDER   THE  STORKS'   NEST.  37 

her  until  she  begged  for  peace  at  any  price,  even  the 
sacrifice  of  her  carpets.  Oh,  those  delightful  days  in 
the  company  of  our  little  sweethearts,  and  the  charm 
of  our  first  love! 

Bernhard  invariably  found  himself  in  the  company  of 
a  certain  Augusta,  the  dearest,  prettiest  little  creature 
in  our  merry  sociables,  excepting  of  course  sweet  Lina, 
a  young  miss  who  exhibited  a  perfect  willingness  to 
tolerate  me  for  a  partner  with  noticeable  frequency ;  and 
I  acknowledge  the  young  lady  was  the  goddess  that 
ruled  me ;  but  my  love-affair  was  very  private ;  even 
Bernhard  was  not  taken  into  my  confidence,  and  I  never 
found  sufficient  courage  to  tell  my  idol  of  the  fervency 
of  my  worship.  We  met  often,  but  not,  as  she  sup- 
posed, by  accident.  I  was  well  informed  regarding  her 
movements,  and  knew  precisely  when  she  would  pass  a 
certain  corner  in  going  to  or  returning  from  her  music- 
lessons,  and  she  would  look  at  me  with  her  roguish 
eyes  and  say,  "Good-morning,  Albert,"  and  I  would 
wander  away,  feeling  as  if  the  sun  shone  remarkably 
bright,  even  if  it  rained  or  stormed  terribly. 

The  young  people  were  all  "paired  off,"  and  yet  the 
future  separated  their  maturer  years.  The  young  girls 
became  young  ladies  and  wives  while  we  still  occupied 
a  student's  bench,  longing  for  the  time  to  draw  near 
when  we  were  ready  for  the  university. 

None  of  us  were  heart-broken,  though  some  fearful 
sighing  was  done  when,  during  our  convivial  evenings, 
the  glass  was  raised  high  over  some  jovial  head  with 
the  toast,  "  Here's  to  the  loveliest !"  followed  by  knowing 
glances  towards  some  sentimental  one,  and  an  "Ah, 

brother,  her  name  is " 

4 


38  UNDER    THE   STORKS'    NEST 

We  all  survived  the  heart-siege,  however;  a  few 
preserved  the  forget-me-not  blossom  for  many  years  in 
their  hearts;  and  poetry, — oh,  the  poetry  we  composed! 
I  still  have  some  written  by  my  companions  in  those 
days  of  innocent  happiness. 

We  were  all  poets.  To  be  sure,  some  of  the  odes 
"  To  Her/'  "  To  the  Only  One,"  "  To  the  Beauteous 
One,"  were  highly  flavored  with  the  words  "  bliss"  and 
"  delight,"  and  it  required  no  particular  critic  to  note  the 
desperate  strait  in  which  the  distressed  author  labored  to 
bring  about  the  desired  fancy  or  rhyme.  Then  again  (I 
find  some  heart-rending  lines  "  To  the  Faithless  One," 
fraught  with  undying  grief,  others  replete  with  hints 
of  suicidal  intent. 

Summa  summarum  :  they  all  recovered  without  suf- 
fering any  remarkable  mental  or  physical  injury. 

Bern  hard's  wounds  proved  serious.  Augusta  was  the 
first  "  faithless  one."  She  was  prostrated  with  a  severe 
illness  for  long  weeks  before  her  marriage,  and  Bernhard 
hovered  in  the  vicinity  of  her  home  at  all  hours,  and 
fetched  us  the  latest  reports  of  her  condition,  but  in  such 
tones  that  mother  discovered  the  state  of  his  feelings  ere 
long,  and  it  was  her  sympathetic  voice  that  brought  him 
the  information  that  Augusta  would  be  married  imme- 
diately on  her  recovery.  Bernhard  became  deathly  pale, 
and  quietly  left  the  room. 

During  her  convalescence  he  called  on  her  once. 
Her  mother  met  him  at  the  door  and  requested  him  to 
see  her,  as  she  was  sitting  up,  for  the  first  time,  in  the 
family  room  again. 

He  met  her  with  outstretched  hand,  expressing  his 
pleasure  at  seeing  her  able  to  be  up  once  more. 


UNDER    THE  STORKS'    NEST.  39 

"  Thank  you,  dear  Bernhard,"  she  replied,  pressing  his 
hand  to  her  heart ;  "  and  for  your  kind  attention  to  me 
during  my  sickness  accept  my  heartfelt  thanks." 

While  she  was  speaking,  the  tears  rolled  down  her 
pale,  transparent  face,  making  her  look  so  frail  that  the 
trembling  boy  believed  it  was  an  angel  speaking. 

Unable  to  utter  the  simplest  response,  he  was  relieved 
from  his  painful  embarrassment  by  the  entrance  of  her 
mother  and  a  stranger,  whom  she  introduced  as  Au- 
gusta's future  husband. 

Poor  Bernhard !  he  strove  manfully  to  face  this  last 
blow.  He  pronounced  a  stereotyped  congratulation  and 
hastily  made  his  adieus. 

In  one  hour  from  the  time  he  left  home  he  returned 
a  changed  being.  His  face  was  pale,  and  his  eyes  shone 
with  a  restless  glance ;  but  no  quivering  of  the  lips  or 
trembling  voice  indicated  the  painful  storm  raging  in  his 
soul. 

At  the  dinner-table  he  proposed  the  health  of  the 
"  engaged,"  and  none  but  the  mother's  keen,  loving  eye 
observed  any  difference  in  his  manner ;  she  understood 
his  enthusiastic,  eccentric  character,  and  she  was  appre- 
hensive for  the  result. 

I  cannot  say  positively  that  mother  gained  sufficient 
influence  by  her  gentleness  and  silent  sympathy  to  lead 
him  to  confide  in  her,  and  thus  saved  him  from  some 
desperate  act;  but,  from  words  that  were  carelessly 
spoken  later,  I  judge  such  to  have  been  the  case. 

But  he  was  greatly  changed.  He  did  not  lose  the  no- 
bility of  his  good  heart ;  his  disposition,  that  was  always 
gentle  towards  all  living  tilings,  was  not  really  changed ; 
but  he  cultivated  a  harsh  manner,  rejected  every  at- 


40  UNDER    THE  STORKS'   NEST. 

tempt  to  offer  sympathy,  and  seemed  to  take  rude  com- 
fort in  hugging  his  sorrow  to  himself. 

For  weeks  he  would  remain  absorbed  in  fits  of  obsti- 
nate silence,  then  seemed  to  awake  and  indulge  in  the 
liveliest  humor,  return  to  his  neglected  books  and  music, 
and  apply  himself  until  he  outstripped  us  all. 

He  avoided  meeting  the  object  of  his  unconquerable 
passion  in  every  possible  manner,  but  when  accident 
brought  him  near  her  he  suffered  terribly  in  the  en- 
deavor to  disguise  the  volcanic  fires  of  his  love;  he 
courted  death  rather  than  have  her  know  his  feelings. 

Long  after  her  marriage,  and  after  she  had  removed 
to  another  city  with  her  husband,  did  he  again  recover 
some  of  his  former  self-control.  During  that  time 
many  very  unpleasant  scenes  occurred  to  mar  the  former 
harmony  of  our  happy  home.  Bernhard's  stubborn 
will  came  in  contact  with  father's  sense  of  justice,  and 
mother's  tact  and  remonstrance  frequently  subdued  the 
trouble.  In  this  she  was  counseled  and  assisted  by  Mr. 
Charles  Thomas,  a  friend  of  father's  and  a  near  neigh- 
bor, who  could  always  be  found  at  our  house  when  he 
was  needed  at  his  own. 


UNDER    THE  STORKS'   NEST.  41 


CHAPTER   III. 

MR.  THOMAS  was  the  most  singular,  sensible,  droll, 
yet  kind-hearted  piece  of  humanity  that  navigated  on 
two  legs,  one  of  which  was  made  of  the  best  kind  of 
wood  in  use  for  pedal  substitutes. 

He  was  a  native  of  a  neighboring  town,  and  became 
an  associate  and  friend  of  father's  while  occupying  the 
same  bench  at  school.  In  those  early  days  the  boy  be- 
came absorbed  in  the  idea  of  theology ;  his  head  and 
heart  were  set  on  becoming  a  minister. 

His  father,  unfortunately,  had  other  views  for  him. 
Being  a  "small  grocer"  himself,  his  wish  was  to  see 
Charles  become  great  and  respectable  in  the  same  line 
of  business.  One  day  he  came  to  the  institute,  took  the 
ambitious  scholar  with  him  to  the  city,  and  placed  him 
behind  the  counter  of  a  grocery-dispensing  friend. 

Instead  of  the  sacerdotal  cassock  his  longing  eyes  be- 
held dimly  in  the  future,  they  tied  a  green  apron  under 
his  chin.  Instead  of  Virgil  and  Homer,  they  placed 
in  his  hands  a  pot  of  paste  and  a  brush,  and  initiated 
him  into  the  science  of  making  paper  bags. 

He  who  felt  within  his  soul  the  gospel  mission  now 
daily  dispensed  cheese,  coffee,  molasses,  and  the  like 
materialistic  substances,  to  rude,  rosy-cheeked  servant- 
girls  and  to  dirty-faced  youngsters,  whom  he  constantly 
reminded  of  their  flowing  noses,  regardless  of  their  want 
of  the  necessary  wherewith  to  wipe  them. 

4* 


42  UNDER    THE  STORKS'    NEST. 

His  hands,  that  should  have  been  raised  in  benedic- 
tion, now  were  red  and  swollen,  and  smelt  of  fish-brine 
and  lamp-oil.  Instead  of  giving  benighted  sinners  the 
gospel  light,  he  handed  them  two-penny  tallow  dips. 
Still,  he  found  time  in  the  little  intervals  to  glance  into 
his  beloved  books,  until  the  approach  of  the  holidays: 
then  fruit  had  to  be  sorted,  and  barrel  after  barrel  of 
citron  that  had  suffered  from  the  frost  was  emptied  into 
tubs  of  cold  water ;  this  he  had  to  sort  and  lift  out  of 
the  ice  and  dry  a  piece  at  a  time.  Although  he  cried 
until  the  tears  fell  into  the  tub,  they  did  not  take  the 
chill  from  the  water  or  warm  his  purple  hands.  He 
would  not  tolerate  such  horrors ;  his  patience  gave  out : 
he  ran  away;  he  ran  home  to  his  father's  house. 

The  old  gentleman  certainly  must  have  been  familiar 
with  that  sweet  story  of  the  returned  son,  and  that  les- 
son taught  to  parents  in  the  Bible ;  but  the  impression 
on  his  obdurate  heart  could  not  have  been  lasting. 

No  fatted  calf  was  slaughtered  in  honor  of  the  return 
of  his  unhappy  scion ;  no  signs  of  a  grand  entertain- 
ment greeted  our  youth.  No  !  with  slow  and  deliberate 
footstep  his  father  went  towards  the  door ;  back  of  it, 
hanging  on  a  nail,  was  a  long,  lean,  hungry-looking 
strip  of  ox-hide,  doubtless  related  to  the  fatted  calf,  but 
its  welcoming  embrace  was  entirely  too  violent  to  be 
pleasant  or  enticing.  Charles  had  made  its  acquaintance 
on  former  occasions,  and  understood  the  leaping  energy 
of  its  clinging  welcome. 

After  the  demonstrations  were  over  and  his  father 
was  tired  and  went  away,  Charles  crept  into  a  corner 
and  wept,  and  his  mother  came  and  comforted  him,  and 
the  following  morning  accompanied  him  to  the  coach 


UNDER    THE  STORKS'   NEST.  43 

that  was  to  carry  him  back  to  his  store  and  his  work. 
Kissing  him,  she  asked,  "You  will,  my  boy?" 

And  he  replied,  firmly,  "Yes,  mother,  I  will." 

Charles  returned  to  the  grocery  business,  sold  his 
Homer  and  Virgil  and  all  his  dear  temptations,  and 
became  an  honest  salesman  until  his  time  was  out. 
Then  he  turned  traveling  agent  for  several  firms,  until 
a  pair  of  bright  eyes  fascinated  him,  and  he  became  a 
Benedict,  and  possessor  of  considerable  property  through 
his  wife,  but  grew  restless  after  awhile,  and  when  the 
fatherland  called  for  troops  he  answered  immediately 
in  heart  and  person. 

In  1813  he  went  to  the  war.  In  181 5  he  was  brought 
home  in  an  ambulance,  glad  to  be  cared  for  by  the 
loving  wife.  A  hero,  whose  loss  of  limb  was  proudly 
suffered  for  the  possession  of  the  iron  cross,  with  its 
silver  band  and  little  end  of  ribbon. 

She  knew  her  lieutenant  had  lost  the  first  and  won 
the  last  in  honor. 

The  soldier  became  again  the  merchant,  and  when 
his  wife  bade  him  a  long  farewell,  the  distressed  widower 
found  little  pleasure  in  money-making.  He  had  a  snug 
fortune  of  several  hundred  thousand  dollars ;  this  he 
invested  safely,  and  concluded  to  rest  the  remainder  of 
his  life. 

His  parents  and  an  only  sister  were  dead ;  he  had 
no  children.  He  purchased  a  beautiful  property  directly 
opposite  our  house,  and  became  to  us  like  one  of  the 
family. 

This  was  Charles  Thomas,  and  we  called  him  Uncle 
Thomas. 

One  day,  being  too  unwell  to  go  to  school,  I  was 


44  UNDER    THE  STORKS'    NEST. 

seated  in  an  out-of-the-way  corner  with  my  book  before 
me,  and  I  became  an  unintentional  listener  to  a  conver- 
sation between  him  and  father. 

"  Corpo  di  Bacco  I"  Uncle  Thomas  exclaimed ;  "  would 
you  measure  that  youngster  with  the  same  ell  that  an- 
swers for  the  sleepy-heads  ?  I've  told  you  a  thousand 
times,  brother  Nanta,  that  a  hedge-hog  has  not  the  soft 
hair  of  a  cat,  nor  can  a  lion  fetch  and  carry  or  walk  on 
his  hind  legs  like  a  poodle.  Will  you  never  compre- 
hend ?" 

"The  boy  provokes  me  beyond  endurance  with  his 
obstinacy !" 

"Diavolo  incarnate!  You  don't  excite  it  with  your 
own  irritable  temper,  do  you?  You  hammer  with  all 
your  might  on  the  rock  with  your  steel,  and  wonder 
where  the  sparks  come  from.  Let  him  alone;  because 
he  is  not  hanging  on  your  neck  all  the  time  is  no  indi- 
cation that  he  is  lacking  in  love  and  respect,  or  is 
wanting  in  intelligence  because  his  nose  is  not  an  index 
to  jour  thoughts.  Santa  Madre !  Bernhard  is  a  boy  to 
be  proud  of,  I  say !" 

"And  pray  tell  me  why  Albert  does  not  aggravate 
and  oppose  me  at  every  turn,  until  my  judgment  and 
temper  alike  fail  me?" 

"O  cielo  futato!  Do  you  not  know  that  Albert's 
heart  beats  calmly  beneath  the  shadow  of  a  cool  head, 
while  poor  Bernhard's  heart  is  still  torn  and  wounded 
by  his  unhappy  love,  the  hot-headed  boy?" 

Father  laughed  aloud.  "  Well,  you  are  certainly  fit 
to  grace  a  strait-jacket,  Thomas.  Bernhard — torn  heart 
— unhappy  love.  Really,  a  pretty  trio, — a  nice  affair, 
truly!" 


UNDER   THE  STORKS'   NEST.  45 

"No!  a  very  bad  affair,  let  me  tell  you/'  exclaimed 
Thomas.  "I  know  better  than  you,  who  are  only  the 
boy's  father;  I  am  your  children's  friend,  and  nothing 
escapes  my  observation.  Ah,  brutto  Tedesco  di  Greco, 
just  consider  a  bit,  and  you  can  date  the  change  in  his 
nature  to  Augusta's  engagement!  Silently  he  is  smart- 
ing and  trying  manfully  to  conquer,  and  it  makes  him 
quarrelsome  and  unsettled.  Be  sensible,  Nanta,  and 
give  him  time  to  master  himself." 

The  house-bell  rang;  a  letter  was  handed  father  just 
as  Bernhard  entered  and  went  up-stairs. 

The  letter  was  from  a  gentleman,  Herr  von  Brieloff, 
a  man  of  unprincipled  character,  whose  feelings  towards 
father  were  none  of  the  friendliest,  owing  to  the  result 
of  a  case  that  came  before  Judge  Berndal  against  a 
poor  widow,  and  brought  by  the  writer  of  the  letter; 
the  case  went  against  him,  and  the  man  held  spite 
against  the  judge.  Herr  von  Brieloff  informed  father 
that  Bernhard  had  become  involved  in  an  unpleasant 
quarrel  with  his  son,  and  challenged  him  in  consequence ; 
and,  although  the  absurdity  of  such  a  request  from  a 
school-boy  ^as  scarcely  worthy  of  notice,  still,  if  Bern- 
hard  did  not  immediately  withdraw  the  challenge  and 
make  reparation,  the  matter  should  -be  brought  before 
the  school,  also  the  police  notified.  Bernhard  was 
called,  and  father  angrily  demanded  an  explanation. 

Bernhard  coolly  explained.  Young  Von  Brieloff 
was  a  mean,  vulgar  fellow;  did  not  think  it  proper  to 
relate  then  and  there  the  cause  of  the  quarrel,  but  his 
father  could'  rest  assured  it  was  sufficient  to  demand 
chastisement ;  apology  was  out  of  the  question ;  but  he 
would  withdraw  his  honorable  challenge  on  condition 


46         UNDER  THE  STORKS'  NEST. 

that  the  fellow  take  a  caning,  like  the  coward  that  he 
really  was. 

"But  I  command  you  to  desist!  You  shall  not 
molest  him  at  all.  His  father  will  not  rest  satisfied  until 
you  are  dishonorably  dismissed  from  the  university. 
Do  you  hear?"  cried  the  judge,  in  anger. 

"Very  well,"  replied  Bernhard,  in  the  same  tone; 
"the  shame  and  disgrace  of  such  a  dismissal  cannot 
hurt  me." 

"But  me!  Let  it  happen,  and  you  may  go  to  the 
devil  or  any  other  desirable  place  for  you,  but  my  door 
you  shall  never  darken  again !" 

"I  shall  endeavor  to  bear  it,"  retorted  Bernhard. 

Enraged  beyond  bounds,  the  judge  sprang  towards 
him;  but  Mrs.  Berndal  had  pushed  her  son  out  of  the 
door,  and  bade  him  go  to  his  room. 

I  followed  after  a  little  while,  but  could  not  find 
him;  he  had  left  the  house  and  gone  to  the  city. 

The  same  evening,  still  excited  and  angry,  he  was 
walking  along  the  main  promenade,  and  came  face  to 
face  with  young  Von  Brieloff. 

"Coward!"  he  cried,  and  dealt  him  blow  after  blow 
on  back  and  shoulders,  until  the  miserable  wretch  begged 
and  cried  like  a  cur,  running  for  dear  life. 

Bernhard  paid  not  the  least  attention  to  the  crowd  of 
people  collected;  having  paid  his  reckoning,  he  quietly 
walked  home. 

In  the  mean  while,  Mrs.  Berndal  and  Uncle  Thomas 
had  used  all  their  combined  persuasive  powers  to  quiet 
the  enraged  judge. 

"  Cospetto !"  Uncle  Thomas  exclaimed,  "  do  not  med- 
dle with  their  affairs,  Nanta;  I  shall  make  it  my 


UNDER    THE  STORKS'   NEST.  47 

business  to  discover  the  cause  of  the  quarrel;  and  a 
little  private  word  with  the  old  Von  Brieloff  may  have 
its  weight  also.  Maladetto!  the  apple  generally  falls 
near  the  trunk  of  the  tree ;  the  son  appears  to  like  the 
shadow  of  the  father.  It  was  no  silly  play  that  pro- 
voked Bernhard.  Corpo  santo  di  Cristo !  I'll  attend  to 
the  old  one!" 

With  these  words  he  hastened  out  of  the  house  as 
fast  as  his  wooden  leg  would  permit. 

Just  within  the  city  gates  he  met  Bernhard.  "  Per 
Cristo  verissimo,  gentuomo!  I  thought  you  were  in 
your  room  at  home.  What  are  you  doing  abroad?" 

"  I  have  been  enjoying  a  little  promenade,  and  en- 
tertaining myself  by  presenting  the  high  and  noble 
gentleman  Von  Brieloff  with  a  dozen  plebeian  excla- 
mation-points with  my  cane,  accompanying  the  same 
with  expressions  of  esteem,  etc." 

"  The  devil !  And  was  the  matter  of  such  urgency, 
you  young  hot-head  ?  Honestly,  now,  tell  me  the  cause 
of  your  quarrel,  and  what  enraged  you  to  such  excess. 
Why  not  have  explained  to  your  father  wrhen  he  made 
the  request?" 

"It  was  impossible  to  tell  him  ;  but  he  might  have 
exhibited  sufficient  confidence  in  my  word  that  I  felt 
justified  to  act  in  the  manner  I  did.  Von  Brieloff  is 
malicious  and  spiteful  as  an  ape.  Yesterday,  during  a 
little  unimportant  debate,  some  of  us  became  excited, 
and  the  arguments  were  growing  warm,  when  Von 
Brieloff  insolently  turned  to  me,  saying  I  was  a  dis- 
sembling hypocrite  like  my  father,  whose  chicanery  had 
lost  the  cause  of  a  gentleman  and  his  betters ;  that  he 
bought  and  sold  his  decisions " 


48  UNDER    THE  STORKS'   NEST. 

"  The Ammazza  la  canaglia !  Ammazza  !" 

exclaimed  Uncle  Thomas,  snorting  excitedly.  "  You 
did  perfectly  right,  my  boy.  March  straight  to  my 
house,  and  stay  there  until  I  call  for  you.  Your  father 
owes  you  an Never  mind ;  do  as  I  tell  you  !" 

What  really  passed  between  Uncle  Thomas  and  Von 
Brieloff  senior  was  never  definitely  known. 

Later,  the  footman  was  dismissed  from  service  by  the 
Hon.  Von  Brieloff  for  some  neglect  of  duty,  and  he 
spread  the  report  that  angry  words  echoed  through  the 
halls,  and  he  distinctly  heard  Uncle  Thomas  tell  his 
master  if  he  dared  do  anything  he  would  trample  him 
under  foot  like  a  worm.  "  I  know  you,"  he  said,  "  and 
you  know  me.  Beware  !  If  the  matter  is  placed  before 
the  court,  you  will  probably  know  who  may  have  to 
suifer.  Santa  croce  di  Malta !  I  leave  it  to  you.  Addio, 
sir !" 

At  the  expiration  of  half  an  hour  he  entered  his 
house,  gleefully  rubbing  his  hands,  telling  his  house- 
keeper, "Fetch  a  bottle,  Truda ;  I  have  been  greatly 
disturbed,  and  require  a  soothing  lotion  for  the  inner 
man.  Come,  Bcrnhard,  empty  your  glass.  I  guess  the 
affair  will  subside ;  but  see  here,  my  boy,  you  really 
should  not  have  punished  the  fellow  so  severely.  I 
was  told  by  eye-witnesses  that  he  cried  and  begged  at 
the  first  blow.  I  shall  go  and  have  a  talk  with  your 
father  now.  Shame  on  you  !  to  torment  and  vex  the 
good  man  so!  Santissimo  diavolo  !  Get  you  to  your 
room !" 

Uncle  Thomas  predicted  truly.  The  student's  little 
difficulty  subsided  without  a  hint  of  future  vengeance 
from  the  other  parties.  The  subject  was  also  avoided  at 


UNDER    THE  STORKS'   NEST.  49 

home ;  but  Bernhard  exerted  himself  successfully  in  con- 
trolling his  excitable  nature  to  some  extent,  and  father 
met  the  endeavor  with  consideration  and  patient  for- 
bearance :  so  this  proved  the  last  violent  exchange  of 
temper  between  them. 

The  day  of  our  graduation  was  drawing  near.  Our 
friends  and  relatives  suffered  great  uneasiness  and  un- 
spoken doubts  in  regard  to  the  final  result.  Chief  among 
these  self-tormented  hearts  was  Uncle  Thomas's :  if  he 
had  been  about  to  pass  examination  himself  he  could 
not  have  been  more  exercised. 

He  had  been  in  the  habit  of  lauding  and  glorifying 
us  to  such  a  degree  that  the  necessity  of  attending  school 
at  all  seemed  rather  pleasant  pastime  until  we  were 
old  enough  to  be  received  at  the  university,  and  not 
because  we  needed  the  same  instruction  required  by  other 
boys.  Such  had  been  the  tenor  of  his  expressed  opinion 
of  our  natural  abilities  during;  our  school-days;  but  now 
he  suddenly  changed  his  sentiments,  and  conjured  up 
the  most  frightful  pictures  of  our  deficiency,  while 
each  item  of  knowledge  became  an  insurmountable 
rock,  against  which  our  soft  noddles  would  be  shame- 
fully crushed  and  disgracefully  mutilated. 

Every  day  he  came  hobbling  up  to  our  room  to 
assure  himself  of  our  studious  industry ;  then  he  would 
prayerfully  beg  us  not  to  stultify  our  minds  with  such 
unreasoning  adherence  to  our  books :  we  would  certainly 
appear  stupid.  Such  a  trumpery  examination  would 
be  the  merest  fiddle-faddle  for  such  chaps  as  we  were, 
surely;  and  if  we  came  out  all  right,  what  wonderful 
things  he  would  do  for  us!  Then,  again,  he  would 
speak  as  if  it  was  a  hopeless  trial  for  us,  and  comfort 


50  UNDER    THE  STORKS'    NEST. 

us  by  relating  similar  failures  of  others.  "Don't  take 
it  to  heart,  boys,"  he  would  say ;  "  although  the  disgrace 
will  be  the  death  of  me." 

The  day  arrived.  Uncle  Thomas  accompanied  us  to 
the  door  of  the  institution.  At  the  termination  of  the 
first  day's  examination  we  found  him  waiting  for  us 
there;  fortunately,  we  could  relieve  his  anxious  heart 
by  telling  .him  we  had  as  yet  met  with  ease  every 
trial. 

His  whole  manner  changed  from  pitying  despair  to 
the  most  ridiculous  triumph  on  the  instant.  "  Juvenus 
dum — m  sumus !"  he  cried,  touching  his  brow  with  his 
finger.  "As  if  we  anticipated  anything  else!  Why, 
did  I  not  always  tell  you  the  whole  thing  would  be  the 
sheerest  play?  I  never  doubted  it, — never!  You  can 
attest  to  that  yourselves." 

Scarce  were  the  words  spoken  before  a  painful  shadow 
fell  over  his  countenance,  and  he  despondently  said, 
"But  to-morrow  you  will  certainly  fail  in  mathe- 
matics; I'm  sure  of  it;  I  should  fail  myself  in  that. 
Your  father  and  I  are  prepared,  and  shall  endure  the 
disgrace.  Prochwost!  Don't  get  nervous  or  excited 
over  that  portion  of  your  examination;  mathematics 
is  the  simplest  study  under  the  sun.  R2  ph, — that's 
the  correct  formula;  that  will  take  you  through  the 
world,  and  the  devil  fly  away  with  sine,  cosine,  and 
all  your  logarithmical  nonsense!  R2 ph, — that's  your 
cue!" 

Arrived  at  our  home,  he  saw  us  safely  delivered 
under  paternal  protection. 

"Bonissime!  bonissime!"  he  exclaimed,  when  he  saw 
father;  then,  turning  on  his  wooden  leg,  he  left  us  alone, 


UNDER    THE  STORKS'   NEST.  51 

and  did  not  appear  again  until  we  were  about  retiring 
for  the  night. 

His  rosy,  glowing  face  shone  brighter  than  ever  as  he 
related  how  he  had  hunted  up  the  professors,  and,  during 
the  convivial  entertainment  set  before  them,  had  interro- 
gated and  instructed  them  regarding  the  morrow's  duty. 

The  sixth  and  last  day  of  our  examination  chanced 
also  to  be  Bernhard's  birthday.  Such  days  in  our  family 
were  ever  considered  holidays;  but  Bernhard  had  re- 
quested us  to  postpone  the  usual  festivities  until  the 
day's  result  was  proclaimed. 

The  time  between  breakfast  and  our  departure  was 
passed  in  unusual  quiet.  Mother  and  father  pressed 
their  sons  to  their  hearts  with  feelings  of  sympathy  and 
tenderness.  As  the  hour  approached  for  us  to  appear 
in  school  for  the  last  time,  a  solemn  silence  pervaded 
us  all. 

Uncle  Thomas  entertained  us  with  his  hopes  and 
doubts  on  the  way  to  school,  where,  after  five  long 
hours  of  anxiety,  we  were  dismissed  to  await  the  ver- 
dict in  another  apartment. 

There  were  six  of  us  young  fellows  who  had  our 
wisdom-teeth  so  unmercifully  probed;  we  bounded  down 
the  stairs  three  steps  at  a  time,  feeling  confident  of  the 
result:  those  wise  professors  had  been  most  severe  in 
probing  just  where  a  tolerable  endurance  gave  promise 
of  safety. 

At  the  foot  of  the  stairs  the  beadle  received  us  and 
invited  us  into  his  room.  There  we  found  Uncle 
Thomas  sitting  on  the  sofa  behind  the  table,  where 
he  had  sat  since  morning,  trembling,  doubting,  hoping, 
fearing  for  us. 


52  UNDER    THE  STORKS'    NEST. 

"Through?"  he  exclaimed. 

"Not  yet,  but  hope  for  the  best  directly." 

"Oh,  my!  oh,  my!"  he  groaned,  "wheu  will  my  suf- 
ferings have  an  end?  when  shall  I  have  rest?"  With 
these  words  he  emptied  into  his  glass  the  last  drop  from 
the  fourth  bottle  in  front  of  him. 

Soon  that  honorable  and  important  individual,  Poeta 
Neutoeberius,  or  Norus-Columberius,  pedellus  acade- 
micus  seu  riator  i.  oris  m.,  appeared,  and  solemnly  pro- 
claimed, "  The  young  gentlemen  of  the  graduating  class 
are  requested  to  appear  before  the  professor  immediately." 

Uncle  Thomas  gave  a  leap  in  the  air,  then  fell  back 
on  the  sofa  with  a  terrible  groan,  extending  a  trembling 
hand  for  the  wineglass,  to  give  him  strength  to  help  us 
bear  our  trial. 

The  directors  met  us  with  decided  faces ;  probably  an 
unpleasant  sensation  and  vacancy  in  the  region  of  the 
lower  vest-button  had  something  to  do  with  the  hasty 
decision,  it  being  considerably  past  the  professors'  cus- 
tomary dinner-hour.  At  all  events,  the  ten  years  of 
school-life  ended  with  ten  words  from  the  director. 

We  had  graduated  with  honor.  The  assembled 
teachers  and  professors  congratulated  us,  bowed,  and 
the  doors  were  closed. 

"Over!  all  over!"  we  shouted  at  Uncle  Thomas,  who 
rose  and  majestically  commanded, — 

"  Neutoeberius,  away !  Let  a  messenger  be  sent  hence 
immediately  to  deliver  the  tidings !  Order  the  carriages 
around  instantly!" 

Then,  limping  from  one  to  the  other,  he  embraced 
us  fervently,  exclaiming,  in  the  excess  of  his  joy  and 
relief,  "  Did  I  not  tell  you  to  put  away  your  fears,  your 


UNDER    THE  STORKS'   NEST.  53 

silly  doubts  and  useless  fretting?"  followed  by  a  string 
of  Latin  oaths  and  insane  exclamations  impossible  to  re- 
peat, while  on  the  street  the  sound  was  taken  up  by  the 
shouting  of  postillions  and  the  enthusiastic  cries  of  street 
urchins,  who  witnessed  the  remarkable  proceedings. 

Before  the  door,  drawn  up  in  order,  stood  four  coaches, 
each  drawn  by  four  horses,  whose  drivers  were  lustily 
blowing  their  horns  to  different  tunes  and  time. 

"  Forward,  march !"  shouted  Uncle  Thomas. 

There  were  six  of  us  graduates,  friends  also  from 
early  boyhood.  Two  and  two  we  were  ordered  to  take 
possession  of  three  of  the  coaches,  while  the  excited  and 
happy  commandant  seated  himself  in  the  foremost  and 
fourth,  and  thus  we  rode  through  the  town,  the  envy 
of  all  the  little  boys,  halting  at  the  several  residences 
of  our  graduating  class-mates,  requesting  parents  and 
relatives  to  honor  the  house  of  Thomas  with  their 
presence,  without  further  ceremony,  early  in  the  even- 
ing; but  not  one  of  us  would  he  release.  Arrived  at 
our  house,  we  were  ordered  to  alight  and  present  our 
personal  compliments  to  Judge  Berndal  and  lady, 
requesting  the  family  to  follow  us  to  the  hospitable 
roof  of  Mr.  Charles  Thomas  with  all  speed.  Then  we 
reentered  the  carriages,  and  soon  crossed  the  street  in 
state,  and-were  welcomed  by  Uncle  Thomas  "  at  home." 

Such  a  supper !  such  wine  and  champagne ! 

The  ball  following  was  opened  by  Uncle  Thomas  and 
Mrs.  Berndal;  and  the  merry  old  gentleman  did  not 
rest  until  he  had  hobbled  through  the  dance  with  every 
lady  present. 

Ah,  it  was  a  glorious  day !  no  shadow  of  the  event- 
ful to-morrow  crept  near  to  mar  its  completeness. 


54  UNDER    THE  STORKS'    NEST. 


CHAPTER    IV. 

THE  following  day  the  family,  with  the  exception 
of  father,  mother,  and  myself,  were  away  from  home, 
and  father  had  given  orders  that  visitors  were  to  be  ex- 
cluded, and  I  was  requested  to  meet  my  parents  in  the 
yellow  gable-room. 

Father  was  walking  thoughtfully  up  and  down  the 
long  room,  and  mother  was  sitting  by  the  window  with 
her  face  turned  away,  and  appeared  to  be  weeping. 
She  motioned  for  me  to  come  to  her,  and,  embracing 
me  stormily,  repeatedly  called  me  her  beloved  boy,  her 
darling  son,  while  her  form  trembled  with  emotion. 

"  Mother !  dear,  good  mother !"  I  cried,  in  perplexed 
sorrow,  "what  has  occurred  to  trouble  you?" 

Then  Judge  Berndal  said,  in  an  agitated  voice,  to  his 
wife,  "Lottie,  be  composed;  try  and  calm  yourself;  it 
is  unavoidable.  Albert,  sit  down." 

I  seated  myself  beside  his  wife,  and,  placing  her  arm 
around  my  neck,  she  pressed  my  head  to  her  breast,  her 
hot  tears  falling  on  my  face. 

"Albert,  my  son, — yes,  I  can  say  my  dear  son  justly, 
for  you  have  ever  been  our  loving,  tender,  obedient 
boy;"  he  strove  to  conquer  his  emotion,  then  softly  con- 
tinued :  "  my  wife,  your  mother,  and  I  acknowledge  with 
pride  in  this  sad  hour  that  you  have  been  a  good  son. 

"Albert,  my  beloved  boy,  you  have  attained  the  age 
and  reached  that  boundary  where  the  guardianship  and 


UNDER    THE  STORKS'    NEST.  55 

protection  of  those  who  have  loved  and  cared  for  you 
from  infancy  cease  to  be  a  necessity.  Here  the  youth 
chooses  his  future,  and  steps,  a  self-dependent  individual, 
into  the  vortex  of  existence,  to  encounter  the  inevitable, 
to  combat,  to  conquer. 

"You  are  no  longer  accountable  to  human  authority 
for  that  which  affects  you  personally.  The  manner  in 
which  you  employ  and  profit  by  the  first  years  of  your 
independence  will  decide  your  whole  life  thereafter. 
Our  hearts  and  prayers  will  be  with  you,  but  our  watch- 
ful eyes  can  no  longer  direct  and  judge  for  you. 

"  Your  destiny  is  in  your  own  hands,  and  in  placing 
your  welfare  in  your  own  keeping  I  experience  no  ap- 
prehension that  the  care  will  be  more  than  your  young 
shoulders  can  sustain.  It  is  not  this  charge  that 
brings  the  bitter  tears  of  sorrow  to  our  eyes  and  fills 
our  heart  with  deepest  pain ;  it  is  the  revelation  I  have 
to  make  that  I  cannot  justly  spare  you  the  unhappy 
knowledge  of. 

"  I  am  aware  that  you  possess  the  manliness  and 
strength  to  face  an  adverse  fact  bravely ;  but,  oh,  how 
reluctantly  I  follow  the  dire  necessity,  stern  duty,  that 
forces  me  to  give  you  pain !  Dear  boy,  the  grief  is 
none  the  less  ours  in  making  the  disclosure;  we  will 
bear  it  together  and  comfort  one  another." 

Mother  began  to  sob  anew,  pressing  me  convulsively 
to  her;  but  my  eyes  were  riveted  in  unspeakable  terror 
on  the  pale  face  of  father,  who  vainly  tried  to  overcome 
the  tremor  in  his  voice,  as  he  continued: 

"Listen  to  me  quietly,  my  son,  for  you  are  our  son, 
the  beloved  son  of  our  house,  our  hearts,  our  tenderest 
care ;  but,  Albert,  you  are  not  our  child !"  ^ 


56  UNDER    THE  STORKS'    NEST. 

"My  God!  Not  your  child?  Not— your— child? 
Whose,  then,  am  I?" 

"That  I  cannot  tell  you,  my  dear  son;  the  keenest 
inquiry  and  investigation  failed  to  throw  the  faintest 
light  on  the  mystery  of  your  parentage.  But,  my  boy, 
if  you  should  ever  remain  in  ignorance  regarding  your 
birth,  home,  and  friends,  a  mother  whose  heart  beats 
with  holy  tenderness,  and  a  father  whose  faith  and  trust 
are  boundless,  loving  sisters,  these  will  never  fail  you 
as  long  as  life  lasts.  Ours  you  are,  and  shall  remain, 
until  you  renounce  us  of  your  own  accord." 

"Never!  oh,  never  that!"  I  cried,  almost  broken- 
hearted. "Oh,  God!  why  could  I  not  have  remained 
unconscious  of  the  horrible  truth?" 

I  would  have  torn  myself  from  the  loving  arms  that 
held  me,  and  gone  Heaven  knows  whither  with  my  sor- 
row and  bereavement,  that  robbed  me  so  suddenly  of  the 
dearest  objects  in  life,  but  tender  words  and  caresses, 
tears  mingling  with  mine,  held  me,  and,  burying  my 
face  in  that  mother-lap,  I  sobbed  out  the  storm  of  de- 
spair that  could  scarcely  comprehend  as  yet  the  desolation 
of  my  condition.  I  only  realized  that  I  was  an  unknown, 
an  outcast,  homeless,  fatherless,  motherless,  nameless. 

I  strove  for  composure,  and  gained  sufficient  com- 
mand of  my  faculties  to  listen  to  the  story  of  my  adop- 
tion into  the  affections  and  home  of  my  happy  boyhood. 

"There  only  remains  one  other  duty,  my  dear  boy; 
that  is,  to  give  you  an  account  of  the  articles  of  wearing 
apparel  and  some  other  things  of  greater  value  left  by 
your  mother  and  taken  in  charge  by  myself  as  your 
legal  representative. 

"The  jewelry  and  ornaments  you  will  find  in  this 


UNDER    THE  STORKS'   NEST.  57 

casket,  that  I  now  present  to  you  in  memory  of  the 
dead.  Every  article  of  clothing  has  been  preserved, 
including  that  worn  by  you  when  found,  trusting  they 
would  aid  you  in  discovering  your  relationship  and 
proving  your  identity. 

"The  money  I  placed  where  it  has  drawn  interest 
steadily,  and  the  sum  has  more  than  doubled  itself 
during  this  time. 

"  Just  before  you  came  to  us  so  strangely,  we  had  lost 
our  first-born,  and  we  received  you  in  his  stead  as  a 
gift  from  Heaven  to  fill  his  vacant  place.  The  woman 
you  have  called  mother  took  you  to  her  sorrowing  heart, 
and  warmed  and  nourished  you  in  your  famishing  con- 
dition. If  you  feel  that  you  owe  gratitude  to  any 
human  being,  that  your  obedience  and  love  are  due  to 
any  one  on  earth,  'tis  to  her  you  must  turn ;  she  is  your 
life's  benefactor.  When  our  researches  proved  fruitless 
in  regard  to  your  parentage,  it  was  her  solicitude  for 
you  that  concealed  the  secret  of  your  birth ;  she  adopted 
you  in  the  place  of  her  own,  and  as  such  you  were  re- 
ceived. You  were  brought  up  and  educated  with  and 
as  our  own,  until  to-day  it  becomes  my  duty  to  make 
this  explanation. 

"Now,  my  boy,  it  is  impossible  for  me  to  bear  the 
expenses  of  a  collegiate  course  for  both  my  sons  and 
make  just  provisions  for  two  daughters  at  the  same 
time.  Moreover,  your  little  fortune,  with  judicious  man- 
agement, will  not  only  give  you  an  opportunity  to  con- 
tinue your  studies,  but  maintain  you  comfortably  during 
the  several  years  that  you  will  require  to  fit  you  for  the 
occupancy  of  any  position  you  may  choose  for  your 
future  support.  That  I  will  continue  a  trustworthy 


58  UNDER   THE  STORKS'   NEST. 

administrator  of  your  affairs  until  you  attain  majority 
you  know  without  more  assurances." 

Utterly  overcome,  I  could  only  throw  myself  on  his 
breast,  and  he  pressed  me  in  his  arms,  his  tears  mingling 
with  mine.  His  wife  approached,  and  together  we 
three  wept  in  sympathy.  Almost  insane  with  my 
misery,  I  embraced  the  dear  forms  again  and  again, 
crying,  "  Father !  mother ! — oh,  do  not  tell  me  you  are 
not! — do  not  cast  me  off.  I  am  your  son.  My  God, 
it  must  be  so!" 

"You  are,  dear  boy,  you  are,  and  always  shall  be," 
whispered  mother,  with  caressing  tenderness.  • 

Prostrated  by  the  unexpected  storm,  that  appeared, 
for  the  moment,  to  have  blighted  all  my  energies  and 
crushed  every  feeling  but  the  realization  of  utter  lone- 
liness, I  was  startled  by  the  sound  of  footsteps.  Uncle 
Thomas  was  hobbling  up-stairs,  followed  by  my  sisters. 
Alas!  I  had  no  sisters  now.  I  could  not  meet  them. 
"Let  me  go!"  I  exclaimed;  "I  shall  smother,  stifle 
here!  I  must  be  alone."  I  tore  myself  from  their 
embrace,  and  rushed  towards  the  door  and  into  the 
arms  of  Uncle  Thomas,  who  endeavored  to  restrain  me 
as  I  struggled  to  escape. 

"Mille  tonnerres!"  he  exclaimed,  in  French  anger. 
"Damn  you,  young  studiosibus!  do  you  take  me  for 
an  insignificant  pigmy,  a  dog,  a  dwarf,  to  be  flung  out 
of  the  way  at  your  pleasure?  Sapristie!  the  ill- 
mannered  cub  came  booming  at  me  with  the  force  of  a 
howitzer!  But,  sacre  nom  de  Dieu!  what's  the  matter, 
boy?  You  look  like  a  ghost,  with  a  countenance  as 
woe-begone  as  the  female  apparition's  hobgobling  about 
Berlin  Castle.  Have  the  old  folks  murdered  you? 


UNDER    THE  STORKS'    NEST.  59 

Did  I  arrive  just  in  time  to  save  you  and  prevent  the 
catastrophe?" 

"  Unhand  me,  uncle !    Let  me  go,  for  God's  sake !" 

"Ventre  saint  gris!"  he  cried,  releasing  me,  and 
staring  in  astonishment  at  the  judge  and  his  wife. 
"This  is  a  lamentable  trio,  surely.  What's  up?"  In 
the  mean  time,  I  rushed  out  of  the  house,  to  breathe  the 
fresh  air  and  think. 

Uncle  Thomas  closed  the  door,  and,  turning  to  Judge 
Berndal,  said,  "Now,  Nanta,  explain.  What  has  oc- 
curred? Que  le  diable  m'emporte!  There  she  sits,  the 
unhappy  woman,  weeping  tears  enough  to  float  the 
world.  Nanta,  you  depraved  monster,  what  have  you 
been  doing  to  your  wife  and  Albert  during  my  absence? 
Confess  your  infamous  deed;  speak,  wretch!"  With- 
out waiting  an  answer,  he  walked  to  the  table,  where 
sat  Mrs.  Berndal,  her  face  buried  in  her  hands,  and 
in  a  pitiful  voice  begged  her  to  be  happy  once  more. 

"Don't  cry,"  he  pleaded,  charming  woman;  do  not 
weep;  do  anything  in  the  world  but  weep,  dear  heart." 
Then,  turning  again  to  the  judge,  he  said, — 

"  Eh  bien,  Nanta,  mon  joli  coco,  will  you  directly  ex- 
plain, or  shall  I  directly  march  about  my  own  business 
and  leave  you  alone?" 

"Brother  Thomas,  sit  down,"  said  the  judge.  "The 
subject  under  discussion  is  no  longer  a  secret,  but  a 
most  unhappy  revelation  for  our  Albert,  and  a  distress- 
ing story  altogether;  but  sooner  or  later  the  poor  boy 
had  to  be  told  we  were  not  his  parents,  that  he  was 
only  our  child  by  adoption." 

"What!  not  your  son?  A  million  and  threescore 
bomb-shells  have  struck  me!"  screamed  Uncle  Thomas, 


60  UNDER    THE  STORKS'    NEST. 

forgetting  all  his  mongrel  quotations  in  his  astonish- 
ment. 

"  Sit  down  quietly,  Thomas,  and  I  will  relate  what  I 
know  about  the  melancholy  affair." 

Helplessly  the  good  soul  sank  into  a  chair,  gazing 
first  at  one  then  at  the  other  of  his  sorrowing  friends, 
muttering,  "Not  your  child?  Albert  not  your  child? 
And — I — never — told  of  it — all  these  years !" 

With  a  pained  expression  on  his  face,  he  then  silently 
awaited  further  information.  Absent-mindedly  his  hand 
had  wandered  towards  the  casket  on  the  table  at  his 
side,  fingering  the  jewelry  unconscious  of  his  actions, 
when,  with  a  startled  exclamation,  he  scrutinized  more 
closely  a  diamond  ring  that  he  had  carelessly  tried  to 
force  on  to  one  of  his  fleshy  fingers.  He  ran  to  the 
window,  inspected  the  circle  inside  and  out,  then,  with 
an  ashen-gray  face  and  almost  inarticulate  voice,  he 
asked,  "This  ring,  Nanta,  where  did  this  ring  come 
from?" 

"  It  belongs  to  Albert.  It  was  taken  from  his  mother's 
hand  after  her  death,"  replied  the  judge,  marveling 
somewhat  at  Mr.  Thomas's  strange  conduct. 

"  Great  Heaven  above !"  hoarsely  cried  Uncle  Thomas, 
limping  excitedly  across  the  room  and  holding  the  ring 
up  before  the  judge.  "  Answer  me  truly,  Nanta,  for  God's 
sake,  only  the  truth!  Was  this  ring  taken  from  the 
hand  of  Albert's  mother?" 

"It  was.  The  jewelry  that  casket  contains  also 
belonged  to  the  unfortunate  woman." 

"Poor,  poor  Marie!"  Uncle  Thomas  cast  himself 
on  the  sofa  and  sobbed  aloud,  and  appeared  to  be  deaf 
to  every  question  and  all  the  comforting  words  of  the 


UNDER    THE  STORKS'    NEST.  61 

wondering  judge  and  his  wife.  But  suddenly  he  raised 
his  head,  and  the  traces  of  grief  were  lost  in  an  ex- 
pression of  childish  delight;  he  rushed  as  fast  as  his 
wooden  leg  would  permit  up  to  Mrs.  Berndal,  and 
kissed  her  repeatedly,  then  embraced  the  judge  heartily, 
releasing  him  only  to  execute  a  noisy  jig,  and  shout, 
"Albert  is  my  son,  my  dear  boy,  and  yours  too,  mind 
that !  Come,  mother  Berndal,  you  have  got  to  be  kissed 
again ;  you  shall  be  loved  and  honored  as  if  you  were 
my  own  mother.  Come  to  my  heart,  father  Berndal, 
come  and  let  me  love  you  and  honor  you  as  if  you 
were  both  father  and  grandfather ." 

Fearing  the  man  had  lost  his  reason,  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Berndal  looked  on  in  affright,  and  unable  to  comprehend 
him.  At  last,  observing  their  disturbed  faces,  he  calmed 
himself. 

"Do  you  not  understand,  you  stupid  people?"  he 
said.  "Have  I  not  made  it  perfectly  plain  to  you  that 
Albert  is  my  boy?  That  ring  belonged  to  my  sister, — 
I  myself  gave  it  to  her, — and  Albert  is  her  son !" 

"The  Lord  grant  it  may  be  so!  But,  Thomas,  the 
ring  does  not  prove  it." 

"The  devil  it  don't!  But  /shall  prove  it,  my  jus- 
ticiary doubter."  With  these  words  he  emptied  the 
casket  of  its  contents,  and  examined  each  article  closely 
until  he  found  what  he  evidently  wanted.  It  was  a 
plain  circle  of  gold,  a  wedding-ring.  "There,"  said  he, 
"is  more  proof;  you  will  find  the  letters  'M.  T. — T. 
M.,  1807'  inscribed  in  that  ring.  They  stand  for 
Marie  Thomas — Theodore  Martin.  Poor  Marie!"  With 
the  back  of  his  hand  he  wiped  a  tear  from  his  eye, 
and  requested  Judge  Berndal  to  narrate  the  story. 


62  UNDER    THE  STORKS'   NEST. 

Silently  he  listened;  and  when  Judge  Berndal  had 
related  all  there  was  to  tell,  Uncle  Thomas  said  to  Mrs. 
Berndal,  "Dear  madam,  will  you  tell  me  what  letters 
marked  the  linen  of  the  poor  lady?" 

"M.  T." 

"And  the  child's?" 

"A.M." 

"There,  brother  justice,  I  can  give  you  proof  again: 
I  am  also  the  Charles  mentioned  in  the  torn  letter;  I, 
Charles  Thomas,  am  the  identical  Charles  that  left 
home  and  enlisted,  and  the  unhappy  woman  you  buried 
here  was  my  sister  Marie  on  her  way  to  visit  my  wife. 
Poor  girl!  her  years  were  not  all  complete  and  joyous, 
either.  You  recollect,  Nanta,  the  kind  of  man  my 
father  was?  Harsh,  cold,  and  unloving  towards  his 
family,  and  not  inclined  to  study  the  desires  of  his 
children.  He  rose  out  of  obscurity  and  poverty  by  the 
long  and  tiresome  ladder  of  a  small  grocer;  he  made  a 
respectable  fortune  by  hard  work  and  industry.  He 
was  not  particularly  ambitious  for  himself,  but  his 
heart's  desire  was  to  see  his  two  children  rich.  To  be 
rich  was  to  be  happy,  according  to  his  views.  Bliss 
without  riches  \vas  an  incomprehensible  chimera.  To 
be  a  merchant,  a  rich  trader,  was  his  ideal;  he  had 
more  respect  for  such  a  man  than  for  his  majesty  the 
Emperor  himself.  I  was  destined  to  become  a  merchant, 
and  Marie  must  marry  one.  In  fact,  father  had  chosen 
one  for  her,  a  mean,  bad,  unprincipled  fellow,  that  poor 
Marie  could  not  tolerate ;  but  he  was  rich !  Marie  was 
a  lovable,  pretty  girl,  and  much  sought  by  the  young 
men,  and  one  in  particular  found  her  heart.  He  was  a 
worthy  and  trustworthy  man,  a  physician  of  good  stand- 


UNDER   THE  STORKS'   NEST.  63 

ing,  and  a  surgeon  in  the  army,  stationed  with  his  regi- 
ment near  our  town. 

"  When  he,  encouraged  by  the  blushing  girl,  manfully 
asked  father's  permission  to  pay  his  honorable  addresses 
to  his  beautiful  daughter,  he  was  met  with  insult  and 
vile  epithets,  ordered  to  take  himself  from  the  prem- 
ises, and  never  to  show  his  face  thereabouts  again,  or, 
etc.,  etc. 

"  Marie  was  gentle  and  mild  in  disposition,  but  re- 
mained firm  to  her  resolve  not  to  wed  the  disagreeable 
merchant,  although  she  would  not  marry  against  the 
wishes  of  her  father  the  man  she  loved.  You  can  imagine 
the  unhappy  atmosphere  of  our  home.  Father  raved 
and  stormed  daily ;  peace  had  fled  forever.  If  mother 
ventured  to  remonstrate,  she  received  the  grossest  treat- 
ment from  the  master  of  the  house.  But  one  day  the 
news  arrived  that  the  man  who  had  been  favored,  and 
for  whom  we  had  all  suffered  so  much, — because  he  had 
money,  because  he  was  a  rich  merchant, — was  a  fraud- 
ulent bankrupt !  The  destruction  of  a  long-cherished 
plan  and  desire,  and  the  knowledge  that  he  had  been  so 
nearly  duped,  was  more  than  father's  mind  could  bear 
at  that  time,  and  he  never  recovered  from  the  blow. 
His  mind  was  unsettled,  and  his  health  began  to  fail 
from  that  hour. 

"  Mother  died  soon  after.  With  her  last  breath  she 
gave  Marie  her  consent  and  blessing  to  wed  the  man  of 
her  choice. 

"  For  two  years  Marie  remained  and  nursed  father, 
who  appeared  to  live  only  in  her  sight,  and  seemed  to 
remember  only  that  she  was  his  child,  for  whom  he 
was  gathering  gold.  Gold  and  Marie  !  that  was  all ; 


64  UNDER    THE  STORKS'   NEST. 

and  rambling  thus  in  mind,  he  fell  asleep — to  wake  no 
more. 

"  And  then  the  faithful  girl  married  her  faithful  lover. 
But  the  devoted  couple  were  destined  to  be  again 
parted.  Dr.  Martin  had  never  been  robust,  and  the 
life  of  exposure  to  which  his  duties  subjected  him  led 
to  distressing  results.  A  short  time  before  the  birth  of 
Albert  my  poor  sister  became  a  widow. 

"  I  was  not  at  home  when  the  letter  with  the  news 
arrived ;  I  had  already  enlisted  and  joined  my  regi- 
ment ;  but  my  wife  answered  it  with  the  pressing  invi- 
tation to  come  and  make  our  house  her  home  during 
their  mutual  widowhood. 

"  The  physical  prostration  following  Albert's  birth, 
the  exertion  necessary  to  undertake  the  journey  with 
her  babe,  her  lonely  condition,  grief  for  her  beloved 
husband,  all  may  have  combined  in  leading  to  the  ter- 
rible idea  of  self-destruction. 

"  My  wife  received  a  short  letter  informing  her  of 
their  intended  departure  to  make  the  promised  visit. 
The  time  arrived  ;  she  waited  in  vain :  Maria  came 
not.  Two  trunks  at  last  were  received.  Then  she 
waited  daily,  hourly,  for  their  owner,  who  would  cer- 
tainly follow.  But  no  Marie  came.  It  is  useless  to 
tell  you  of  our  searching.  My  wife  went  to  Berlin,  and 
from  there  every  conceivable  means  was  employed  to 
trace  the  lost  ones,  but  without  avail.  Marie,  my  poor, 
poor  Marie  !  you  were  so  near  me,  and  I  did  not  know 
it ;  daily  your  son  was  before  me,  and  I  knew  him  not ! 

"  For  twenty  years  those  trunks  have  stood  un- 
strapped and  unopened,  and,  unless  the  mildew  and 
moths  have  utterly  destroyed  their  contents,  they  will 


UNDER    THE  STORKS'   NEST.  65 

doubtless  compare  with  the  clothing  in  the  little 
traveling-trunk  in  your  possession." 

Judge  Berndal  silently  opened  a  drawer  in  his  secre- 
tary, and  took  from  a  beautiful  bead  purse  a  bunch  of 
keys,  and  was  about  to  replace  the  purse,  when  Uncle 
Thomas  grasped  it  from  him. 

"I  have  seen  that  before,  Nanta.  My  sister  made  it 
for  mother,  and  father  contributed  the  silver  clasp.  It 
was  intended  for  a  birthday-gift."  Great  tears  fell  on 
the  purse  as  he  tenderly  gazed  at  it,  sadly  murmuring, 
"  All  dead !  all  dead  !" 

"  Come,  Thomas,  here  are  the  keys  to  your  trunks ; 
let  us  go  and  remove  the  last  doubts,"  said  Judge 
Berndal. 

"  What,  Nanta !  do  you  still  entertain  any  ?"  queried 
Uncle  Thomas,  reproachfully. 

"  No,"  replied  the  judge,  firmly  and  decidedly ;  "  but, 
as  it  is  in  our  power  to  drive  the  martyrdom  of  uncer- 
tainty beyond  recall  by  oracular  evidence,  it  were  best 
done  at  once." 

"  You  are  right,  brother  Nanta.     Come." 

"  Take  me  with  you,"  cried  Mrs.  Berndal ;  "  do  not 
leave  me  alone  with  my  trouble  and  unrest." 

"  To  be  sure  you  shall  go,  dear  lady.  You,  the 
mother  and  loving  friend,  have  the  first  right  to  com- 
mand in  this  matter.  Oh,  what  would  have  become 
of  the  forsaken  child  if  you  had  not  been  merciful?" 
exclaimed  Uncle  Thomas. 

In  silence  they  crossed  the  street  and  entered  the 
house,  and  Uncle  Thomas  led  up  one  flight  of  stairs  into 
a  little  room  where  the  trunks  stood.  Father  handed 
him  the  keys,  and  slowly  he  sank  on  his  knees  to  unlock 

6* 


66  UNDER    THE  STORKS'   WEST. 

them,  but,  overcome  with  grief,  he  let  them  fall,  bowed 
his  head  on  the  cover,  and  wept  unrestrained. 

"I  cannot — cannot,  Nanta!  You  open  them,"  he 
said,  rising. 

Father  pressed  his  hand  in  sympathy,  and  mother 
asked  permission  to  unlock  them.  Thankfully  Uncle 
Thomas  nodded  his  consent. 

The  lid  was  raised.  A  white  linen  cloth  was  spread 
over  the  contents.  In  one  corner  was  the  mark  in  red, 
"M.  T."  With  joyous  exclamations  this  testimony 
was  received,  and  Uncle  Thomas,  with  eyes  still  tear- 
dimmed,  forgot  his  grief  for  the  dead  sister  in  the 
knowledge  of  possessing  a  living  nephew. 

The  marriage-certificate  of  my  parents,  and  their 
likenesses,  were  among  the  contents ;  also  papers  and 
letters  of  inestimable  value  were  exhumed  from  their 
resting-place  in  these  trunks,  because  they  established 
their  fellowship  with  those  other  things  that  had  lain 
so  long  awaiting  identification. 

During  these  happy  developments  at  home,  I  had 
wandered  in  the  direction  of  the  High  Bridge,  towards 
the  spot  on  the  sea-shore  where,  twenty  years  before,  I, 
a  crying,  helpless  infant,  had  appealed  unconsciously 
for  succor.  I  cast  myself  on  the  ground  and  gave 
vent  to  my  feelings,  and  my  eyes  sought  to  trace  again 
the  footprints,  long  since  obliterated,  that  were  made 
by  my  mother.  I  felt  as  if  she  must  rise  up  before  me 
and  bring  comfort  to  her  forsaken  child.  She  loved 
me,  yes,  truly,  ardently,  as  mothers  love  their  offspring, 
and  yet — yet  she  had  left  me,  never  to  return  ! 

The  murmuring,  whispering  waves  dashed  gently 
over  the  banks,  above  me  the  young  foliage  sang  its 


UNDER    THE  STORKS'    NEST.  67 

sibilant  melody,  but  no  sweet  mother's  voice  mingled 
with  the  sounds. 

Slowly  the  blue  waves  followed  each  other  to  the 
shore,  their  round  arms  bearing  the  reeds  and  sea- weed 
tenderly  along,  playfully  leaping  upward  to  the  over- 
hanging bushes  and  shrubs  that  bowed  and  nodd.ed  in 
greeting  welcome. 

Ah,  perhaps  on  that  fatal  evening,  twenty  years  ago, 
the  treacherous,  murmuring  deep  had  sung  the  same 
peaceful,  soothing  melody,  had  held  out  those  soft, 
friendly  arms.  "  Come,"  they  softly  whispered,  "  come 
rest  here,  pale,  tired  mourner  ;  we  will  rock,  and  nurse, 
and  give  you  peace."  The  trusting  victim  was  clutched 
in  their  cruel  embrace.  Mercilessly  then  they  rushed 
and  roared,  that  no  human  ear  could  hear  the  cry  for 
help, — the  cry  of  the  struggling  woman,  my  tender, 
loving  mother.  Oh,  my — my  mother ! 

Cast  my  eyes  where  I  would,  all  was  quiet  and 
peace ;  only  within  my  soul  raged  the  storm,  the  tem- 
pestuous wailing  of  an  ineffable  sorrow. 

But,  like  everything  else  in  this  world,  the  human 
heart  is  unstable.  The  emotions  that  govern  it  are  as 
changeable  as  wind  and  wrave.  Neither  joy  nor  sorrow 
remains  forever  at  its  height. 

When  we  have  reached  the  mountain's  summit,  the 
next  step  leads  us  down  again. 

We  meet  a  sudden  joy  to-day  with  outbursts  of 
excessive  emotion ;  to-morrow  we  shall  have  become 
familiarized  with  it. 

And  certainly  the  grief  and  trouble  of  yesterday 
greet  us  with  less  force  after  being  our  guests  over- 
night. We  can  nourish  and  feed  a  sorrow,  can  keep  it 


68  UNDER    THE  STORKS'    NEST. 

alive  by  a  perpetual  renewal  of  the  agitating  subject, 
until  it  becomes  an  unhealthy  mania;  but  the  same 
grief  cannot  reach  the  first  excessive  degree  again. 

There  are  innumerable  ways  of  calming  pleasurable 
emotions.  To  become  master  of  a  sorrow,  we  require 
time  and  nature.  Time  is  slow  and  sure  with  its  heal- 
ing balm ;  nature  not  less  sure,  but  more  rapid  in 
relief,  because  sympathetic,  appealing  directly  to  our 
hearts.  Time  preaches  of  sense  and  reason,  the  in- 
exorable logic  of  facts. 

I  experienced  the  truth  of  this  to-day. 

I  came  to  this  spot  suffering  the  agony  of  untold  bit- 
terness. I  realized  not  only  the  loss  of  my  own  parents, 
but  the  loss  of  those  whom  I  had  always  loved  and 
honored  as  such.  I  suffered  the  humiliation  of  being 
an  object  of  pity ;  all  that  had  been  done  for  me  was 
done  out  of  compassion.  The  horror  of  my  mother's 
fate  glared  me  in  the  soul.  I  was  utterly  crushed  with 
my  first  great  sorrow. 

After  a  time  I  arose  and  looked  about  me.  What 
was  this  strange  feeling  of  quiet  that  suddenly  came 
over  me  ?  The  storm  in  my  soul  had  abated.  From 
whence  came  the  peace  that  reigned  in  my  heart  ?  I 
do  not  know,  but  the  violent  pain  was  assuaged.  A 
feeling  of  sadness,  tempered  with  a  contented  resigna- 
tion, possessed  me.  What  I  had  heard  regarding  my- 
self sounded  in  my  memory  like  a  fable  that  I  had 
listened  to  long,  long  ago ;  everything  seemed  far  in 
the  past ;  only  one  feeling  of  that  other  life  had  fol- 
lowed into  the  present, — an  unquenchable  gratitude 
towards  the  noble  guardians  of  my  helpless  infancy 
and  friendless  boyhood. 


UNDER   THE  STORKS'   NEST.  69 

A  fervent  prayer  for  my  unknown  parents,  an  en- 
treaty for  the  happiness  and  welfare  of  those  who  had 
taken  the  place  of  father  and  of  mother,  and  I  turned 
my  steps  homeward. 

The  dear  ones  whom  I  had  left  in  tears  met  me 
beaming  with  joy  and  congratulations ;  sisters  em- 
braced me  again  and  again  ;  Uncle  Thomas  nearly 
crushed  me  in  his  arms ;  but  it  was  long  before  I 
could  comprehend  what  had  taken  place  during  my 
absence.  Then,  when  I  saw  the  pictures  of  my  pa- 
rents, my  happiness  was  complete.  The  thorn  of  hu- 
miliation was  removed  from  my  heart ;  I  could  say  I 
also  had  a  father,  a  mother ;  I  could  gaze  at  their  pic- 
tured faces  and  glory  like  other  children ;  I  could 
point  to  that  man  over  there  and  say,  proudly,  "  Be- 
hold! that  man  is  my  uncle, — my  mother's  brother!" 

This  unexpected  closing  of  a  dark  day  shed  a  ra- 
diance over  all ;  and  yet  floating  in  the  horizon  was 
that  cloud  of  separation.  I  would  have  given  worlds, 
did  I  possess  them,  to  have  obliterated  the  knowledge 
that  the  man  who  had  saved  me  was  not  my  father ; 
the  woman  at  whose  breast  I  had  lain,  who  had  nursed 
me,  watched  and  tended  me  so  faithfully,  tenderly,  for 
years,  not  my  mother ;  the  dear  playmates  of  my  youth 
not  my  sisters,  and  Bernhard,  the  dearest  companion, 
not  my  brother ! 

At  last,  as  evening  advanced,  Uncle  Thomas  looked 
for  his  hat  and  cane. 

"Now,  my  dear  boy,"  said  he,  "you  know  what 
happiness  it  would  give  me  to  take  you  and  lock  you 
up  under  my  own  roof.  But  I  hope  the  Living  Sin 
may  carry  me  off  if  I  can  teach  the  heart  in  my  bosom 


70  UNDER   THE  STORKS'   NEST. 

to  take  you  from  your  parents.  They've  done  more  for 
you  than  I  could  do  if  I  lived  to  the  age  of  Methu- 
selah, and  you  will  be  a  thankless  villain  if  ever  you 
forsake  them,  unless  they  invite  you  to  walk.  Under- 
stand, sir  ?  But  during  vacation,  when  you  are  home 
from  the  university,  then  you  shall  take  up  your  quar- 
ters with  me.  You  will  grant  this  old  stick  that 
pleasure,  Nanta?  and  you,  charming  madam?  Then 
good-night,  and  God  keep  you !" 


CHAPTER    Y. 

FIVE  years  have  elapsed.  Bernhard  and  Albert  have 
emerged  from  their  careless  student  life,  to  assume  the 
responsibilities  of  manhood. 

Albert  follows  the  profession  of  attorney-at-law,  and 
finds  a  happy  home  with  Uncle  Thomas. 

Bernhard  chose  a  physician's  arduous  life,  and  lives 
with  his  parents. 

The  old  house  rings  with  merriment  and  noise  to- 
day; the  garden  and  grounds  are  decorated  and  fes- 
tooned ;  everywhere  gayly-dressed  young  folks  can  be 
seen  wandering  about,  or  sitting  in  pairs  and  groups, 
while  their  elders  are  sitting  in  the  arbors  or  halls,  en- 
joying conversation  and  refreshments.  Lively  strains 
of  music  from  the  large  pavilion — erected  for  the  occa- 
sion under  Uncle  Thomas's  directions — invite  those  in- 
clined for  the  dance  to  follow  the  sound  of  the  band. 

It  is  Matilda's  wedding-day. 


UNDER    THE  STORKS'   NEST.  71 

The  gentle,  lovely  girl  was  about  to  forsake  father, 
mother,  friends,  and  home,  to  follow  the  fortunes  of 
the  man  of  her  choice,  a  Mr.  Rinold,  magistrate  and 
counselor,  situated  at  and  resident  of  a  neighboring 
city. 

The  day  and  evening  were  spent  in  singing,  dancing, 
feasting,  and  drinking  the  health  and  happiness  of  the 
young  couple. 

At  midnight  Mrs.  Berndal  notified  them  their  car- 
riage was  in  waiting,  and,  unobserved  by  their  guests, 
the  loving  good-byes  were  spoken,  and  the  young  wife 
was  prayerfully  given  to  the  proud  husband  and  son- 
in-law. 

Their  departure  would  not  have  been  so  secret  or 
peaceful  if  Uncle  Thomas  had  not  been  very  much  en- 
gaged in  another  part  of  the  grounds  at  that  time.  He 
had  been  watchful  for  hours  in  anticipation  of  this 
quiet  move,  with  the  purpose  of  preventing  it.  The 
objects  of  his  attention,  at  that  moment,  happened  to 
be  Martha  and  Albert. 

After  the  disclosure  of  Albert's  birth,  the  only  no- 
ticeable change  in  any  member  of  the  Berndal  family 
towards  the  young  man  was  the  coolness  and  singular 
want  of  confidence  in  the  conduct  of  Martha ;  the  sis- 
terly familiarity  and  former  intimacy  that  had  made  her 
the  dearest  of  all  to  his  heart  were  lost  in  her  unap- 
proachable reserve. 

From  the  hour  when  his  mother  (as  we  shall  still 
call  Mrs.  Berndal)  had  permitted  him  to  see  the  little 
sister  the  stork  had  brought  him,  she  had  been  his 
favorite.  He  had  rocked  her  and  sung  to  her,  fed  her 
with  pap,  and  even  nipped  slyly  of  the  sweet  starchy 


72         UNDER  THE  STORKS'  NEST. 

substance  out  of  the  same  spoon;  she  had  been  his  little 
"doll,"  and  pet,  and  baby-sister,  always. 

She  in  turn  clung  to  him  with  infant  preference,  and, 
later,  came  to  him  with  her  girlish  confidences;  each 
shared  the  joys  and  sorrows  of  the  other. 

The  violence  of  her  grief  when  the  revelation  was 
made  that  Albert  was  not  her  brother  was  fearful,  and 
days  passed  before^she  was  able  to  allude  to  the  subject 
without  displaying  the  distress  and  bitter  disappointment 
the  news  occasioned  her. 

Albert  now  began  to  realize  she  was  no  longer  a  play- 
mate and  doll,  but  had  attained  the  dignity  of  young- 
womanhood.  When  he  returned  from  college  and  took 
up  his  residence  with  his  uncle,  he  found  his  associations 
with  her  had  assumed  the  nature  of  those  of  an  indiffer- 
ent friend,  one  to  be  treated  civilly  rather  from  necessity 
than  inclination. 

This  wounded  the  young  man,  and  he  met  her  with 
the  same  unconcerned  manner,  until  the  old  relations 
between  them  were  buried  under  an  apparent  dislike; 
their  meetings  invariably  resulted  in  a  war  of  words, 
cutting  remarks  intended  to  wound  and  portray  an 
utter  disregard  of  each  other's  feelings.  When  apart, 
each  became  the  warmest  champion  of  the  other's  quali- 
ties and  virtues. 

Judge  Berndal  shook  his  head  sorrowfully  over  the 
gulf  that  seemed  to  yawn  between  the  two.  Uncle 
Thomas  stormed  and  scolded  his  nephew  for  his  heart- 
lessness,  his  quarrelsome,  intolerant  deportment  towards 
the  pretty,  winsome  little  Martha. 

Solemnly  they  promised  to  mend  their  manners,  but 
when  next  they  met  the  petty  lampooning  began  again. 


UNDER    THE  STORKS'    NEST.  73 

The  father  and  uncle  fretted  and  plotted  without  avail ; 
but  Mrs.  Berndal  smiled  with  the  silence  of  woman's 
wisdom,  and  let  them  quarrel,  and  bided  the  denoue- 
ment. 

During  the  preparations  for  the  wedding,  Martha's 
manner  lost  somewhat  of  its  iciness :  her  sister's  hap- 
piness and  pleasure  occupied  her  mind  to  the  exclusion 
of  personal  feelings;  Albert's  aid  was  frequently  in  de- 
mand, and,  as  the  little  lady  became  more  approachable, 
the  young  man  became  more  humble,  but  neither  had 
referred  to  the  ugly  barrier  that  had  come  between 
them. 

To-day  it  was  entirely  surmounted;  the  festivities 
and  universal  happiness  had  also  reached  their  hearts. 
Albert  found  no  companion  but  Martha,  scarcely  leaving 
her  side  during  the  day,  and  when  evening  approached 
they  joined  the  dancers,  and  Albert  could  but  impa- 
tiently await  an  opportunity  to  beg  an  explanation  of 
her  singular  avoidance  of  him  heretofore. 

After  the  dance  they  wandered  arm  in  arm  towards 
one  of  the  arbors  overhung  with  vines,  inviting  the  con- 
fidence of  those  desiring  it. 

Everywhere  resounded  laughter  and  witticisms;  the 
utmost  felicity  followed  the  disposition  of  the  host's  ex- 
cellent wines.  The  moon  gazed  in  mild  disdain  at  the 
flickering  lamps  and  decorating  lanterns,  and  smiled 
sweetly  at  the  two  sitting  on  that  little  bench  in  the 
arbor. 

"Martha!  you  dear, dear  Martha!  now  tell  me  hon- 
estly, why  have  you  hated  and  persecuted  me  all  these 
years?  What  have  I  done  that  makes  me  odious  to 
you?  Have  I  not  loved  you  always,  better  than  all 


74  UNDER    THE  STORKS'    NEST. 

others?  Why  have  you  inflicted  such  pain  on  me?" 
Albert  pressed  the  little  hand  resting  in  his  own,  and 
waited  for  a  reply. 

Martha  returned  the  pressure,  and,  looking  at  him 
roguishly,  she  questioned  in  return,  "Why  did  you  not 
ask  me  that  question  years  ago,  before  you  had  made  a 
complete  dunce  of  yourself?  There,  dear  Albert,  do 
not  be  angry,  I  did  not  mean  to  oifend  you,  but  listen 
to  me.  We  were  brought  up  like  sister  and  brother, 
and  I  loved  you  as  dearly  as  it  is  possible  for  a  younger 
sister  to  idolize  a  kind,  tender,  older  brother.  The  in- 
telligence that  we  were  not  related  by  the  tie  of  blood 
shocked  and  pained  me  so  terribly  that  I  was  ill  for 
some  days,  and  unable  to  join  the  family.  Subsequently, 
when  we  met,  you  conducted  yourself  so  strangely,  in 
fact,  absurdly,  towards  me,  even  addressed  me  as  Miss 
Berndal.  That  was  more  than  I  could  endure.  I  may 
have  retorted  a  little  bit  angrily  and  said  some  unkind 
things,  but  I  regretted  them  afterwards.  From  that 
time  you-  honored  me  with  such  extremely  courteous  de- 
portment and  excessive  politeness  it  touched  my  pride, 
although  it  pained  me.  I  have  really  been  the  greatest 
sufferer  through  our  misunderstanding,  because  I  have 
continued  to  love  you,  although  you  have  ceased  to  re- 
gard with  affection  your  little  sister." 

"You  still  care  for  me,  Martha,  dearest  girl?  Well, 
I  have  really  been  a  fool,  a  dunce,  Martha;  I  have 
never  ceased  one  little  moment  to  love  you.  And  you, 
how  you  have  hurt  and  tormented  me!  But  forgive 
me,  Martha,  I  do  not  seem  to  realize  my  present  happi- 
ness yet.  Do  you  still  love — like — me — as  before?" 

"I  have  always  remained  fond  of  you,  loved  you 


UNDER    THE  STORKS'    NEST.  75 

like  a  brother, — that  is,  a  headstrong,  naughty,  insup- 
portable brother." 

"Martha,"  whispered  Albert,  impressively,  "if  I  am 
no  longer  naughty,  insupportable,  could  you  learn  to 
tolerate  me  better  than  a  brother?  Dear  Martha,  I 
swear  to  you,  notwithstanding  appearances,  I  have  loved 
you  better  and  better  day  by  day ;  not  as  a  sister,  but  as 
man  loves,  and  can  love,  only  the  woman  he  would  call 
wife!"  He  placed  his  arm  around  the  unresisting  form 
of  his  companion  and  pressed  her  in  a  close  embrace, 
rapturously  exclaiming,  "You  do — you  will  love  me 
more " 

"  I  cannot,"  softly  said  the  little  maiden,  "for  I  love 
you  now  entirely,  heart  and  soul ;  more  I  cannot  love." 

"  And  you  will  be  mine — mine  to  all  eternity — in 
life  and  death?" 

"  Thine  alone,  and  thine  forever !" 

"  Oh,  my  darling  girl,  how  happy  you  have  made 
me !"  cried  the  young  man,  partaking  of  the  privileges 
of  a  lover  from  the  rosy  lips  of  his  idol. 

"  Thunder  and  cartridges !  bombshells  and  light- 
ning !"  suddenly  exclaimed  an  unsteady,  husky  voice 
behind  them,  and  Uncle  Thomas  stepped  out  of  the 
shadow  and  confronted  the  startled  and  abashed  lovers. 
"  What  sort  of  an  explosion  is  this  ?  Firing  in  files, 
by  Mars !  and  sounds  like  a  hedge-fence  in  flames ! 
Forward,  here !  and  report,  you — you  hostile  horde !" 

"Uncle  Thomas— 

"  Young  man,  hold  your  tongue ;  silence !  The 
position  requires  no  explanation.  '  Ever  thine ;  ever 
mine,'  etc.,  etc.  Thank  Heaven  you  have  come  to  your 
senses.  Bless  you,  my  children  !  And  you,  Martha, 


76  UNDER    THE  STORKS'   NEST. 

come  here  and  give  me  a  kiss.  Out  of  the  way,  boy, 
and  don't  grudge.  God  bless  you,  dear  child,  for  the 
joy  you  have  given  me  to-day ;  and  you  too,  my  son. 
Hurrah !  Nanta !  Nanta !  come  here,  and  let  me  be  the 
first  to  congratulate  you.  No,  you  don't !"  he  cried,  as 
Martha  struggled  to  escape  on  the  approach  of  her 
father.  But  she  freed  herself  and  vanished  in  spite  of 
the  jolly  old  man's  hold. 

"  Deserted  her  colors,  the  renegade !"  laughed  Uncle 
Thomas,  who  had  indulged  his  dry  throat  with  frequent 
lotions  of  champagne.  "  But  run  away,  my  girl ;  we 
will  catch  you  when  we  want  you.  What  do  you  think, 
Nanta  ?  I  found  this  reprobate  sitting  here  with  his  arm 
around  Martha,  kissing  her !  And,  by  my  soul,  I 
believe  she  kissed  him  too !  And  they  swore ;  as  if 
they  had  never  been  taught  that  profanity  is  forbidden 
by  one  of  the  ten  commandments,  or  the  Catechism 
had  been  left  out  of  their  early  studies.  Does  it  not 
say, '  Thou  shalt  not  swear,  lie,  or  deceive '  ?  And  must 
they  not  suffer  punishment?  Shall  we  not  instantly 
betroth  the  sinners '?" 

"  Softly,  Thomas,  softly,"  Judge  Berndal  replied ; 
"  do  not  draw  the  attention  of  the  guests  to  our  bashful 
couple.  We  will  decide  on  their  punishment  after  sub- 
mitting the  case  to  our  high  tribunal,  Madam  Mamma." 

That  lady  made  her  appearance  at  this  moment. 

"  Uncle  Thomas,"  said  she,  "  Matilda  and  Rinold 
requested  me  to  give  you  their  dearest  love  and  adieu ; 
they  have  but  just  gone." 

"  Sold,  by  !  Gone  ?  And  the  scene  in  the 

arbor  was  a  scandalous  comedy  played  for  a  fool's  ben- 
efit !  Oh,  you " 


UNDER    THE  STORKS'    XEST.*  77 

Uncle  Thomas  paused  in  surprise  when  he  discovered 
that  Albert  also  had  disappeared. 

Mrs.  Berndal  looked  at  him  in  astonishment.  "  What 
has  Albert  done,  Uncle  Thomas?  What  has  excited 
you  so?" 

"  I've  been  tricked,  cheated,  deceived, — basely,  devil- 
ishly duped !  Madam,  here  I've  been  standing  in  one 
spot  long  enough  for  my  wooden  leg  to  take  root  in  the 
ground,  with  my  eyes  set  on  the  house-door  so  that  our 
nuptial  pair  could  not  escape  me  on  the  sly.  I  had  it 
all  arranged  with  the  coachman.  When  they  had  en- 
tered the  carriage  I  would  step  up  and  bid  them  good- 
by,  and  at  the  signal  '  Pleasant  journey !'  he  was  to 
whip  up  his  horses  and  ride  away,  leaving  the  carriage 
standing,  having  unharnessed  the  horses  beforehand, 
you  understand.  It  would  have  been  such  a  glorious 
joke !  But  here  come  the  two  wretches,  seat  them- 
selves on  the  bench,  and  begin  their  play.  '  Ah,' 
said  I,  '  Thomas,  here  is  something  new,  watch  it !'  I 
hardly  breathe,  but  stand  and  stand,  and  they  kiss  and 
embrace,  and  swear  like  Romeo  and  Juliet.  I  am 
.happy  enough  to  miss  my  signal,  jump  out  at  them, 
bless  them  like  any  other  uncle  in  a  play,  and  mean- 
while my  other  couple  ride  quietly  away !  The  satanic 
imps !  I'll  bet  you  they  are  laughing  themselves  to 
death  in  some  other  corner,  and  when  the  fun  is  played 
out  they  will  go  to  fighting  again.  Oh,  I  shall  leap 
out  of  my  skin !" 

"  Don't,  Thomas,"  quietly  replied  Judge  Berndal ; 
"  or,  if  you  really  want  to  make  the  trial,  our  friends 
will  doubtless  enjoy  the  performance." 

"  I   don't   need   any    witnesses,"    grumbled    Uncle 


78  'UNDER    THE  STORKS'   XEST. 

Thomas ;  "  and  you,  Nanta,  are  not  required  to  fill  the 
measure  of  my  disappointment  by  any  additional 
mockery.  To  think  that  they  should  be  enjoying  their 
journey  so  nicely  after  the  joke  was  just  ready  !  Bali !" 

"  Come,  Uncle  Thomas,  let  us  take  a  glass  of  wine 
to  the  health  of  the  happy  travelers,"  said  the  kind 
hostess,  greatly  amused,  but  anxious  to  console  the 
distressed  man. 

"  Dear  lady,  you  are  a  comforter  indeed.  Happy  to 
join  you.  It  may  be  just  as  well  that  I  have  one 
score  of  nonsense  less  to  mark  against  the  weight  of 
my  years.  See,  dear  lady,  if  I  was  only  sure  about 
that  other  couple,  for  whom  I  neglected  my  signal." 

The  poor  man  found  it  impossible  to  bring  either  of 
the  hunted  ones  to  the  confessional  that  night;  they 
avoided  hini  at  every  turn.  But  the  following  day, 
before  Albert  was  awake,  Uncle  Thomas  had  taken  up 
his  position  at  his  nephew's  bedside,  and  a  strict  exami- 
nation elicited  the  facts  to  the  entire  satisfaction  of  the 
old  gentleman. 

There  was  no  obstacle  to  prevent  the  course  of  their 
love  from  running  smooth.  And  the  first  letter  that 
followed  the  newly-married  folks  to  their  home  con- 
tained the  news  of  the  betrothal  of  the  enemies — 
Albert  and  Martha. 

Martha  greatly  resembled  her  mother  in  form  and 
face,  but  her  dark  sparkling  eyes  glowed  with  the  mis- 
chievous spirit  that  made  her  so  bewitching  without 
detracting  from  her  really  good  disposition, — graceful, 
merry,  sensible,  yet  combining  the  idealistic  and  ro- 
mantic to  a  degree  that  favored  the  fine  arts,  and  gave 
them  a  preference  in  her  nature. 


UNDER    THE  STORKS'    NEST.  79 

She  was  an  enthusiastic  admirer  of  nature.  A  passion 
for  sketching  developed  itself  in  childhood,  when  she 
would  devote  hours  to  pencil  and  paper,  drawing  some 
picturesque  mill-pond,  or  an  old  decayed  stump  of  a 
tree,  or  some  simple  but  pretty  scene. 

Sometimes  she  would  accompany  her  father  on  a  trip 
through  the  country.  Often  her  sister  would  wander 
through  the  woods  with  her  by  the  hour.  After  her 
ideas  and  drawing  became  more  cultivated,  she  occupied 
considerable  time  in  studying  views,  and  frequently 
roamed  about  for  a  half-day  or  day  alone. 

This  rambling,  independent  mode  of  life  gave  her 
manner  the  semblance  of  daring  that  savored  of  the 
masculine ;  but  an  unfeminine  speech  or  rude  demeanor 
never  soiled  her  lips  or  destroyed  the  charm  of  her 
deportment. 

Her  descriptions  and  conversation  were  enlivened 
with  humor  and  spirited  remarks,  but  withal  she  was 
truly  modest  and  womanly. 

Letters  did  not  travel  with  the  present  rapidity  in 
those  days  of  coaches  and  horseback  mails,  and  some 
weeks  elapsed  before  a  letter  from  the  young  wife  Matilda 
reached  her  parents. 

Charmed  with  her  new  home,  entranced  with  the 
unexampled  virtues  of  her  beloved  spouse,  her  epistle 
breathed  of  the  glowing  happiness  of  her  heart.  She 
wrote,  "  My  husband  is  an  angel,  my  home  the  per- 
fection of  domestic  comfort  and  luxury,  and  I  am  the 
happiest  woman  on  earth.  There  is  nothing  wanting 
now  but  a  sight  of  your  dear  faces, — a  peep  at  Mar- 
tha and  her  intended,  and  good  Uncle  Thomas,  and 
brother  Bernhard," — and,  oh !  if  she  could  only  see 


80  UNDER    THE  STORKS'    NEST. 

them  !  if  they — mother  especially — would  just  come 
and  bless  her  with  the  sight  of  her  face ! 

Uncle  Thomas  gazed  at  the  letter,  gave  vent  to  some 
of  his  pet  quotations,  interspersed  with  the  custom- 
ary meaningless  oaths,  then  exclaimed,  with  perfect 
honesty,  "  That  girl  shall  be  relieved  directly !  May 
I  be  splintered  if  anything  in  petticoats  shall  languish 
and  pine  for  a  sight  of  my  face  in  vain  !  What  do  you 
say,  madam,  and  you,  Nanta  ?  shall  we  bundle  up  bag, 
baggage,  and  family,  and  respond  to  this  heart-rending 
appeal  ?" 

After  considerable  discussion,  Uncle  Thomas's  prop- 
osition was  finally  adopted,  and  it  was  decided  that  in 
the  course  of  two  weeks  there  would  be  a  general 
flitting  to  Paris,  to  complete  the  earthly  bliss  of  the 
longing  absent  ones. 

"Holy  Brahma!"  suddenly^  cried  Uncle  Thomas, 
"  I  forgot  what  I  came  for.  Inspector  Bussy  just  told 
me  that  a  tribe  of  veritable  gypsies  are  encamped  near 
the  Dreary  Marsh.  The  men  are  a  pack  of  vagabonds 
and  thieves,  the  women  tell  fortunes,  and  their  human 
brood  make  way  with  every  goose  and  hen  for  miles 
around.  I  propose  we  drive  out  and  take  a  look  at 
the  preciosas,  and  the  rabble  generis  masculini,  and  the 
moor." 

Uncle  Thomas  was  fortunate  in  his  suggestions  to- 
day. This  last  one  was  hailed  with  universal  acclama- 
tion, and  the  whole  family  were  soon  en  route  for  the 
gypsy-camp. 

The  Marsh  was  located  about  three  hours'  drive 
from  the  city.  Although  the  surrounding  country  was 
noted  for  its  scenic  splendor,  the  moor  itself  was  little 


UNDER    THE  STORKS'    NEST.  81 

known  or  visited.  The  vicinity  and  its  history  belonged 
to  past  centuries.  Before  the  Reformation  an  immense 
monastery  and  church  had  loomed  towards  heaven,  a 
resort  for  weary  travelers,  and  the  object  of  many  a 
pilgrimage. 

The  vast  edifice  and  buildings  had  been  contiguous 
to  a  beautiful  body  of  water,  a  sea,  deriving  its  source 
from  larger  oceans  by  artificial  subterranean  connec- 
tions. When  the  cloister  became  secular  property,  the 
vindictive  monks  destroyed  the  secret  conduit  of  the 
supply ;  and  when  it  was  discovered,  the  farmers  of 
the  surrounding  country  collected  in  a  body,  invaded 
the  premises  one  night,  killed  a  number  of  the  monks, 
and  set  fire  to  the  buildings.  An  old  tower,  somewhat 
removed  from  the  main  building,  which  had  probably 
served  as  a  bell-tower,  escaped  destruction,  and  stood 
in  gloomy  isolation  over  the  old  ruin. 

The  crystal  mirror  of  the  sea  had  vanished.  A  filthy 
marsh  remained,  in  the  centre  of  which  glistened  a 
round  spot,  not  unlike  polished  ebony  in  its  smooth 
black  surface,  environed  by  the  mouldy,  putrid  mass, 
that  moved  under  the  foot  like  a  putrescent  wave  of 
caoutchouc,  exhaling  at  times  such  poisonous  odors  that 
rarely  was  the  neighborhood  visited.  The  old  bell- 
tower,  all  that  remained  to  tell  of  the  former  glory  of 
the  place,  was  called  the  Rotten-Marsh  Tower. 

The  gypsy-camp  was  within  sight  of  this  dreary 
waste ;  but  their  tents  .were  pitched  under  the  shadow 
of  some  gigantic  trees,  the  only  foliaged  wood  in  the 
vicinity. 

The  report  of  their  encampment  h-.ul  evidently  ex- 
cited considerable  interest  in  the  neighboring  towns. 
r>* 


82  UNDER    THE  STORKS'    NEST. 

When  our  friends  arrived  on  the  ground,  they  found  a 
number  of  other  families  there,  and  lively  groups  were 
sitting  or  standing  around  different  soothsaying  old 
and  young  women  ;  while  men  and  children  were  en- 
gaged in  petty  trafficking  with  visitors  seeking  amuse- 
ment and  ready  to  pay  for  it  in  this  way. 

Truly,  the  business  was  flourishing  to-day.  Here 
an  old  crone  foretold  the  speedy  union  of  some  blush- 
ing girl  to  the  young  man  beside  her ;  there  a  romantic- 
looking  sibyl  warned  some  young  couple  of  the  cloud 
in  their  sky ;  yonder  an  ancient  prophetess  gazed  into 
the  future  for  the  benefit  of  some  liberal  company  of 
young  people.  Marriages,  riches,  large  families  in 
prospective,  silver  joys  and  golden  weddings,  untold 
stations  of  honor  and  sudden  legacies,  were  distributed 
according  to  age  and  seeming  desire,  and  all  for  a  little 
silver  in  the  palm  of  a  gypsy's  hand. 


UNDER    THE  STORKS'   NEST.  83 


CHAPTER   VI. 

THE  most  ill-favored  of  all  the  female  tribe  came 
up  to  Uncle  Thomas,  and  asked  him  if  she  should  tell 
his  fortune. 

"Give  me  silver,  old  man,  and  let  me  read  your 
fate." 

Uncle  Thomas  crossed  her  palm  with  the  desired 
coin,  and,  laughing,  replied,  "Now  proceed,  you  old 
witch  of  Endor;  but  give  me  a  glimpse  into  the  past, 
to  inspire  me  with  confidence,  before  you  attack  the 
future."  / 

The  woman  took  his  chubby  hand,  and  appeared  to 
study  the  lines  a  moment  before  she  spoke.  "Ah  ha! 
The  pretty  blonde,  in  the  big  city  towards  the  setting 
sun,  loved  you  well — and  none  other.  But  she  de- 
ceived you.  What !  you  still  remember  her  ?  Ha, 
ha,  ha !" 

The  merry,  red  face  of  the  old  man  turned  pale  and 
angry,  as  he  wrenched  his  hand  out  of  her  wrinkled, 
wizen  clutch.  AVishing  the  old  hag  thunderstruck, 
and  diversified  luck  of  a  like  nature,  he  hobbled  away, 
while  the  grinning  old  creature  laughed  derisively 
after  him  and  Martha,  who  had  her  hand  on  his  arm 
during  this  time,  and  now  kept  step  with  the  excited 
man  as  he  limped  away. 

"  Run,  run !  but  fate  is  swifter  and  surer.  What 
has  been — is  written  !  What  will  be,  you  cannot  es- 


84  UNDER    THE  STORKS'    NEST. 

cape,  my  pretty  one !"  she  muttered ;  then,  turning  to 
Mrs.  Berndal,  she  took  her  hand. 

"  Let  me  read  the  future,  sister  ?" 

Mrs.  Berndal  endeavored  to  evade  her  hold,  but  her 
husband  jestingly  bade  her  "  hearken  to  the  voice  of 
the  prophetess." 

The  gypsy  scanned  the  faces  of  both  a  moment  in 
silence;  motioning  away  the  hand  of  the  judge  con- 
taining the  silver  offering,  she,  with  great  solem- 
nity, reprimanded  his  levity,  exclaiming,  impressively, 
"  Bone  of  thy  bone,  flesh  of  thy  flesh  ;  what  need  have 
I  of  thy  hand  to  know  thy  future?  Old,  and  gray, 
and  broken ;  mark  it,  scoffer  !  when  the  silvery  waves 
of  misfortune  rest  heavy  on  thy  brow,  long,  long  wilt 
thou  remember  the  words  of  Hanisa.  The  past  lies  be- 
fore me  clear  as  the  day,  and  the  future  as  transparent 
as  the  noonday  sun  on  the  blue-vaulted  sky. 

"  Mother,"  she  continued,  in  softened  tones,  her  voice 
deep  and  earnest  in  chanting  recitative, — 

"  A  stork  on  the  roof  brings  good  luck,  they  say. 
Good  luck  leaves  the  house  when  the  stork  flies  away. 
The  storks  on  the  roof — and  a  home  full  of  glee  ; 
The  storks  are  flown — he  alone  remains  with  thee." 

Bernhard  laughed  merrily  when  the  solemn  tune  was 
at  an  end,  saying,  "Really  wonderful,  if  somewhat 
obscure,  indeed!" 

The  old  woman  glanced  keenly  into  his  cheerful  face, 
as  she  replied,  "  All  absurdity  will  be  made  plain  when 
the  time  is  ripe  :  you  too  shall  witness  the  falling  dew 
clinging  to  the  turf,  like  the  glistening  tear  on  the  eye- 
lashes of  the  child  of  earth.  Give  me  your  hand,  and 


UNDER    THE  STORKS'   NEST.  g5 

Hanisa  will  see  if  your  laughing  eyes  shall  be  dimmed 
with  the  dew  of  tears. 

"  Thine  eyes  are  bright ;  soon  comes  the  night. 

What  thou  shalt  lose  is  thine  yet  through  pain  ; 

"What  thou  shalt  win  will  vanish  again. 
Dark  clouds  are  around,  little  sunshine  about; 
Where  joy  comes  in,  there  hope  goes  out." 

Bernhard  assumed  a  respectful  attitude  until  she 
ceased  speaking,  then,  after  giving  her  some  money,  he 
strolled  away  and  seated  himself  on  the  grass  in  solitary 
meditation,  where  Albert  joined  him  after  also  receiv- 
ing the  gypsy's  warning  advice. 

"Appreciate  happiness  and  prosperity  while  it  is 
thine.  Luck  is  but  a  transient  guest;  once  gone,  you 
may  chase  the  nimble  fugitive  in  vain."  Thus  the 
oracle  had  spoken  to  him. 

"Halloo,  Bernhard!  are  you  melancholy  and  pros- 
trated by  the  '  prophetess  of  her  people'  and  her  wisdom  ? 
Truly,  you  do  not  look  as  happy  as  Saul  when  he  went 
in  search  of  his  father's  asses  and  found  a  crown  in- 
stead." 

Bernhard  shrugged  his  shoulders  in  response.  Albert 
continued:  "And  still,  as  I  continue  to  gaze,  methinks 
thou  dost  resemble  Saul  the  king  when  he  was  about  to 
make  a  scabbard  of  his  bowels,  and  his  corpse  was  hung 
on  the  wall  of  Beth-shan.  Again,  you  remind  me  of 
his  dejected  state  during  his  interview  with  the  witch 
of  Endor,  or  when  he  flung  his  spear  at  David,  the  son 
of  Jesse,  while  that  youth  stood  before  him  playing  the 
harp  for  his  amusement." 

Bernhard  rose,  laughingly  saying,  "Albert,  you  are  a 
lunatic,  and  I  am  another.  To  tell  you  the  truth,  my 

8 


86  UNDER    THE  STORKS'    NEST. 

dear  fellow,  I  have  been  trying  to  unravel  that  creature's 
lines.  I  grant  that  it  is  supremely  absurd  to  permit 
the  twattle  of  that  toothless  beggar  to  occupy  my 
thoughts  for  an  instant, 'and  yet  her  words  impressed 
me  in  spite  of  common  sense,  as  if  I  had  been  the 
veriest  Sister  Credulous  at  a  tea-party." 

"Ha!  ha!"  laughed  Albert.  "That  is  altogether 
owing  to  your  innocent,  childlike  mind.  The  cunning 
hag  has  the  sense  of  the  sensible:  the  simplicity  of 
your  soul  was  apparent,  and  she  very  sensibly  touched 
it.  Behold  the  eifect!  I  say,  Bernhard,  she  reminds 
me  of  the  armadillo, — she  traps  her  game  with  her 
tongue. 

"The  mystery  that  clothes  her  language  is  what  im- 
presses the  hearer:  examined  word  by  word  it  is  mean- 
ingless. She  gave  me  a  dose,  and  I  have  turned  it 
inside  out  and  upside  down,  and  find  it  remains  just  as 
she  intended  it  should, — a  pennyworth  of  nothing. 

"Some  time  in  the  course  of  my  life  I  shall  prob- 
ably be  shocked  by  some  painful  incident  or  surprised 
by  some  unusual  enjoyment;  then,  my  boy,  I  shall  give 
a  thought  to  the  old  gypsy,  and  shall  feel  that  she  knew 
all  about  it,  and  foretold  it  with  the  wisdom  of  her — 
trade." 

In  the  mean  time,  Uncle  Thomas  and  Martha  had 
wandered  about  until  they  found  themselves  at  the  old 
bell-tower.  Martha's  attention  was  attracted  by  a  rus- 
tling sound,  and  she  imagined  she  saw  a  face  peering 
at  her  from  one  of  its  shadowy  corners.  Leaving  Uncle 
Thomas  a  moment,  she  walked  in  the  direction  of  the 
sound,  but  found  nothing.  Just  as  she  rejoined  her 
companion,  a  beautiful  young  gypsy  girl  appeared  sud- 


UNDER    THE  STORKS1    NEST.  $7 

denly  before  them,  and,  addressing  her  in  a  soft  musical 
voice,  said, — 

"  Pretty  sister,  I  have  awaited  your  coming  since  the 
early  dawn.  Mira  saw  you  in  her  dreams,  and  knew 
you  would  come  to  her,  that  she  might  speak  the  words 
the  spirit  placed  on  her  tongue.  Be  warned, — warned, 
— warned!  the  star  of  your  destiny  is  clouded,  and  the 
dark  shadows  of  night  hover  over  your  brow  and 
threaten  death.  Oh,  be  warned !  be  warned ! 

"  Sister,  look  up,  and  look  upward  forever  ; 
Yet  dream  thou  of  high-born  station  never  ! 
Thy  humble  lot  cherish  :  shouldst  leave  it  in  pride, 
Then  ruin  goes  with  thee,  death  stands  at  thy  side." 

With  a  quick  motion  she  placed  her  arms  around  the 
startled  Martha,  pressed  a  kiss  on  her  lips,  and  the 
next  instant  bounded  away  fleet  and  graceful  as  a  deer. 

Martha  impulsively  bounded  after  her,  but  the  gypsy 
maid  vanished  in  the  thicket  surrounding  the  tower 
before  she  could  overtake  her. 

Thoughtful  and  puzzled,  she  returned  to  the  tower, 
where  Uncle  Thomas  had  cleared  a  resting-place  on  a 
pile  of  rocks,  and  seated  herself  beside  him. 

"Did  the  young  witch  frighten  you?  A  pack  of 
wretches,  old  and  young!  Sacre"  nom  de  Dieu!  the 
fool!  My  little  girl  stuck  up — aspire  to  high-toned 
nonsense — pursue  rank  and  station !  Tell  me,  my  little 
angel,  did  the  she-wolf  scare  you?" 

"Not  at  all ;  she  is  surely  a  good,  kind  creature,  and 
meant  no  harm.  Rest  easy,  dear  Uncle  Thomas  :  I  have 
no  desire  for  high  estate."  Her  happy,  ringing  laughter 
gave  assurance  to  her  words.  "But  have  you  observed 


88  UNDER    THE  STORKS'    NEST. 

what  a  peculiar  nook  this  is?  If  you  have  stumbled 
on  it  accidentally,  you  certainly  possess  a  remarkable 
romantic,  melancholy  instinct.  You  made  for  this  spot 
with  the  precision,  and  almost  the  speed,  of  an  arrow. 
Any  ordinarily-endowed  individual  might  have  searched 
a  whole  day  and  not  succeeded  in  finding  it." 

"  Romantic,  melancholy  instinct !"  grumbled  the  old 
man  to  himself.  "She  hit  me  that  time,  I  guess." 
Then  he  said,  aloud,  "  Humbug !  I  only  wanted  to 
be  alone  a  few  minutes, — that's  all !  The  devil  take 
me!" 

"  Oh,  uncle,  not  just  now  !  If  I  were  left  alone  in 
this  place  I  should  die !  First  return  poor  me  to  the 
bosom  of  my  parents ;  then  you  may  go  back  to  your 
wished-for  company,  when  I  am  safely  in  the  arms " 

"Of  Albert?" 

"  My  kindred,  I  was  about  to  say ;  but  if  you  really 
insist  on  including  that  young  man  among  the  number, 
I  shall  respect  this  last  request  of  yours,  and  submit 
resignedly.  But,  uncle  dear,  just  look  around  you  ; 
did  you  ever  see  anything  so  charmingly  gloomy  ? 
Sitting  under  the  dark  shadow  of  this  old  ruin, 
toppling  with  the  weight  of  ages,  all  about  us  lie 
scattered  the  moss-covered  fragments.  And  those  rocks, 
green  with  mould,  do  they  not  look  like  fallen  tomb- 
stones and  neglected  graves  ?  The  very  air  is  freighted 
with  mildew  and  decay;  everything  seems  to  bear  a  sor- 
rowful testimony  to  vanished  grandeur ;  while  the  tower 
against  which  our  backs  are  resting  rises  from  the 
wreck  like  a  giant  finger,  reminding  us  of  the  perish- 
able nature  of  all  earthly  things  !" 

Uncle  Thomas  grunted  assent,  and  she  continued  : 


UNDER    THE  STORKS'   NEST.  §9 

"  I  feel  such  a  singular  oppression  at  ray  heart ;  I 
cannot  find  words  that  will  convey  to  you  the  strange 
sadness  creeping  over  my  spirit.  It  is  not  gloom  or 
fear.  You  dear,  old,  gray  veteran,  here,  bend  your 
head  down  to  mine ;  now  turn  your  silvery  moustache 
to  the  left  a  little,  and  let  your  gaze  wander  over  the 
landscape.  Does  it  not  really  appear  to  the  eye  like 
the  beautiful  Promised  Land? 

"  Do  you  observe  the  wonderful  verdure,  the  heavy 
splendor,  of  the  far-away  forest-trees  in  the  back- 
ground ?  Do  you  see  in  the  centre  of  that  lovely  vale 
a  little  glistening  spot  encircled  by  enticing  green, — a 
little  lake  shining  in  the  sun  like  polished  silver? 
Now  lift  up  your  glance,  and  note  the  splendor  of 
the  vaulted  sky !  Could  the  azure  coloring  be  more 
pleasing  or  perfect?  And  the  luminous  eye  of  old  Sol 
beams  mildly,  smilingly,  down  on  this  paradise,  like  a 
proud  parent  on  the  innocent  countenance  of  his  first- 
born. You  behold  all  this,  do  you  not,  uncle  ?  Now, 
tell  me,  what  is  it  that  we  see  ?" 

Uncle  Thomas  remained  silent,  and  the  girl  went  on 
speaking  : 

"A  horrible  lie!  Only  the  sun  and  the  sky  are 
what  they  seem.  The  rest  is  a  disgusting  falsehood, — a 
wilderness  of  stagnation  and  decay  ! — the  poisonous, 
rotten  moor,  with  its  deceitful  verdure,  and  its  black, 
marshy  pool,  bordered  by  its  green  morass  and  tama- 
risk !  It  is  the  picture  of  death,  neglect, — of  horrible, 
God-forsaken  abandonment !" 

Uncle  Thomas's  bosom  rose  and  fell  with  sudden 
emotion,  and  a  deep  sigh  escaped  Jiini. 

Martha  looked  at  him  perplexed  and  surprised. 
8* 


90  UNDER   THE  STORKS'   NEST. 

The  old  gentleman's  head  was  bowed  on  his  breast, 
and  he  seemed  utterly  cast  down.  The  girl  threw  her 
arms  around  his  neck,  shocked  and  pitying,  crying, 
"  Why,  uncle,  dear  old  Uncle  Thomas  !  What  have 
I  said,  what  have  I  done,  to  grieve  you  ?  What  has 
become  of  my  jolly,  laughing,  ruddy  friend  ?  You  are 
unlike  yourself  since  that  hateful  old  woman  accosted 
you." 

Uncle  Thomas  heaved  another  heartfelt  sigh. 

"  Uncle,  you  are  really  unhappy.  Your  dear,  kind 
heart  is  hurt.  I,  selfish  I,  have  troubled  you,  instead 
of  cheering  you.  Forgive  me,  and  be  yourself  again, 
my  good  old  darling;  or  tell  me,  please,  please  tell 
me  your  trouble.  I  shall  not  leave  this  spot  until  the 
distress  is  relieved  at  the  confessional.  Come,  my  child, 
your  confessor  awaits." 

Martha  placed  his  face  tenderly  against  her  cheek, 
and  noticed  with  secret  astonishment  that  poor  Uncle 
Thomas's  eyelashes  were  moist  with  suppressed  tears. 

"  Martha,  my  little  girl,"  began  he,  in  a  voice  unlike 
his  own  as  that  of  the  cat  to  the  lion,  "it  is  an  ugly 
story,  a  sad  and  trying  recollection,  the  gypsy  brought 
to  my  mind  to-day.  It  is  not  a  story  suitable  for  the 
ears  of  youth  and  innocence ;  but,  Martha,  my  girl,  it 
may  do  me  good  to  speak  of  that  past,  since  the  young 
gypsy  also  reminded  me  of  her  when  she  warned 
you.  Surely  pride  goeth  before  a  fall.  Poor  Eva ! 
poor  girl ! 

"  You  know  the  history  of  my  boyhood, — how  I  de- 
sired to  become  a  minister,  and  was  forced  against  my 
will  to  become  a  grocer.  The  proprietor  of  the  whole- 
sale house  where  I  was  employed,  and  in  whose  home 


UNDER    THE  STORKS'    NEST.  91 

I  boarded,  had  a  daughter, — a  nice  enough  girl,  and 
possessed  of  many  accomplishments;  and  we  were  good 
friends, — but  only  friends,  so  far  as  I  was  concerned. 
One  day  her  father  called  me  aside,  and  with  unex- 
pected kindness  proposed  to  give  me  an  interest  in  his 
business, — advance  me  generally ;  flattered  my  abilities, 
heaped  undeserved  compliments  on  my  character  as  an 
honest,  smart,  steady  youth,  etc. ;  said  he  had  observed 
that  his  daughter  was  pleased  with  my  society,  and  as 
he  lived  only  for  her  happiness,  and  felt  confident  that 
a  young  man  of  my  moral  worth  was  just  the  one  neces- 
sary to  complete  it Well,  Martha,  he  gave  me  to 

understand  I  might  become  his  partner  and  son-in-law. 
It  was  a  tempting  offer  to  one  in  my  situation  at  that 
time,  and  if  it  had  not  been  for  something  that  I  had 
learned  about  two  months  before,  I  should  not  have 
hesitated.  As  it  was,  I  begged  permission  to  consider 
and  recover  from  such  an  unexpected  and  brilliant 
proposition. 

"You  see,  two  months  before,  I  had  met  a  sweet, 
fair-haired,  blue-eyed  girl,  and  we  had  made  short 
work  of  the  lesson  of  love ;  although  her  aunt  and 
guardian — she  was  an  orphan — had  other  and  more 
exalted  views  for  her  than  of  marrying  her  to  a  poor 
storekeeper  like  myself.  She  had  been  betrothed  to  a 
man  utterly  unsuited  to  her  years;  but  he  was  wealthy, 
and  her  aunt  did  not  question  the  girl's  inclination  in 
the  matter.  But  we  met  and  love  1,  and  were  be- 
trothed in  heart  until  I  should  haye  a  home  to  offer, 
when  she  promised  to  be  my  wife. 

"  I  placed  the  heart  of  the  one  and  the  offer  of 
the  other  in  the  balance  that  night,  an4,  believe  me, 


92  UNDER    THE  STORKS'    NEST. 

Martha,  there  was  no  fluctuation :  my  love  was  the 
weightiest. 

"  The  next  day  I  went  to  my  employer  and  laid  rny 
heart  open  to  him. 

" '  Charles  Thomas/  said  he,  '  I  regret  exceedingly 
that  I  came  too  late  with  my  offer,  but  am  glad  to 
know  I  did  not  err  in  my  judgment  of  your  charac- 
ter. I  esteem  you  more  than  ever  for  your  honesty. 
Since  affairs  are  unalterable,  I  trust  this  personal  mat- 
ter will  remain  forever  a  secret  between  us.  In  me  you 
will  henceforward  find  a  staunch  friend,  and  I  will 
never  fail  you.  When  you  are  married  to  the  lady 
of  your  heart's  choice,  and  want  money  or  credit  to 
begin  business  for  yourself,  remember,  a  hint  will  be 
sufficient.' 

"After  that  I  withdrew  from  the  family,  and  through 
his  influence  obtained  an  excellent  situation  as  traveling 
salesman,  that  gave  me  an  opportunity  to  familiarize 
myself  with  the  world  and  its  different  people. 

"  The  parting  between  Eva  and  me  was  a  severe 
trial ;  but  we  corresponded  constantly, — I  have  her  let- 
ters still, — I  never  could  bear  to  destroy  them, — until 
almost  a  year  had  expired  after  my  leave-taking,  when 
her  letters  ceased  all  at  once.  I  waited,  and  wrote, 
till  I  was  almost  wild  with  anxiety.  Then  I  addressed 
my  old  employer,  the  only  being  in  our  confidence ;  and 
his  reply  crushed  me  to  the  earth  with  despair. 

"  Eva  had  disappeared, — probably  taken  her  own  life, 
as  portions  of  her  clothing  had  been  found  on  the  sea- 
coast,  but  no  trace  of  her  could  be  discovered  beyond 
that.  Her  aunt  was  blamed  for  abusing  the  poor  girl 
and  trying  to  force  her  into  a  disagreeable  marriage, 


UNDER    THE  STORKS'    NEST.  93 

and  the  supposition  generally  was  that  the  unhappy 
Eva  had  drowned  herself  to  escape  this  fate. 

"  When  I,  after  some  months,  returned,  I  found  the 
old  aunt  married  to  the  miserable  creature  intended  for 
Eva,  and  the  two  persecuting  money-bags  enjoying  a 
pious  old  age  in  the  holy  bonds  of  blissful  wedlock. 
My  poor  Eva  was  forgotten.  My  kind  friend  and 
former  employer  had  very  likely  mistaken  the  ordinary 
interest  his  daughter  evinced  in  my  behalf  for  some- 
thing more  important,  for  the  young  lady  was  happily 
married  to  a  gentleman  every  way  deserving  of  her. 

"  However,  it  was  all  the  same  to  me :  the  search  for 
Eva  had  not  been  given  up,  although  I  hoped  against 
hope. 

"  I  went  abroad  again.  My  business  took  me  to 
France.  One  evening  we  were  driving  through  a  little 
hamlet  on  the  French  coast,  when,  through  the  care- 
lessness of  the  driver,  my  wagon  upset  on  the  edge  of 
a  ravine,  arid  was  damaged  to  such  an  extent  that  we 
required  assistance  to  transfer  our  wares  and  the  broken 
vehicle  to  some  place  of  safety  until  matters  could  be 
righted  again. 

"  I  sent  the  driver  for  help,  and  kept  guard  by  walk- 
ing around  the  vicinity,  when  I  was  startled  by  a  form 
rushing  past,  halting  an  instant  on  the  narrow  foot- 
bridge just  beyond  me,  then  dashing  into  the  water 
below. 

"  Without  an  instant's  thought,  I  sprang  into  the 
stream,  and,  with  a  few  sturdy  strokes  of  my  arms, 
reached  the  struggling  woman ;  then  like  one  dead  I 
brought  her  to  •  the  shore,  and  if  my  driver  had  not 
returned  at  that  moment  we  should  both  have  perished, 


94  UNDER    THE  STORKS'    NEST. 

for  my  strength  failed  rne,  and  dry  land  would  never 
have  been  reached. 

"  The  dripping,  unconscious  burden  was  my  Eva ! 

"  We  carried  her  to  the  house  of  a  physician,  and  by 
his  consummate  skill  breath  and  life  were  restored. 

"  The  lady  was  recognized  as  one  resident  in  the  vil- 
lage for  about  a  year  at  a  small  villa  belonging  to  a 
certain  Yon  BrielofF. 

"Herr  von  Brieloff!  I  recollected  having  heard 
Eva's  aunt  mention  that  name,  and  also  knew  of  a  rich 
young  scamp,  noted  for  his  bad  morals  and  fast  living, 
being  a  resident  of  the  city,  Eva's  home.  Could  it  be 
the  same  ?  Certainly  his  name  in  connection  with  her 
prepared  me  somewhat  for  the  story  I  had  from  her 
lips  when  the  good  old  doctor  permitted  me  to  see  her. 

" '  Oh,  God  is  merciful !'  she  exclaimed,  when  I  went 
up  to  the  bed  where  she  lay,  pale  and  glorified,  her 
large  blue  eyes  glowing  unnaturally  with  the  fires  of 
death. 

"  '  Can  you  forgive  me  ?  Charles  !  Charles !  forgive 
the  wrong  I  did  you !' 

"  Completely  unmanned,  I  knelt  at  her  side,  sobbing, 
1  Eva,  my  poor  love,  everything  is  forgiven ;  only  live ! 
live !' 

"  Her  face  lost  its  pained  expression,  and  she  said, 
1  Now  I  am  at  peace.  Oh,  Charles,  you  do  not  know 
how  I  have  suffered  for  my  sin  towards  you.  And  yet, 
when  you  understand  the  sore  strait  that  tempted  me  to 

break  my  word 1  was  so  unhappy  after  you  went 

away,  and  aunt  gave  me  no  rest,  night  or  day,  because 
I  would  not  marry  that  man  that  was  so  hateful  to  me. 
Every  day  made  matters  worse,  and  I  often  meditated 


UNDER    THE  STORKS'   NEST.  95 

destroying  myself.  One  day,  after  heaping  on  mt  all 
the  abuse  possible  with  her  tongue,  she  beat  me,  and  I 
fled,  not  knowing  where,  until  I  found  myself  in  the 
street.  I  had  run  wildly  into  the  arms  of  Herr  von 
BrielofF  on  his  way  to  our  house.  Beside  myself  with 
shame  and  pain,  I  related  to  him  my  situation. 

" '  He  offered  me  marriage  on  the  spot ;  said  he 
would  protect  me  from  the  whole  world  in  future  if  I 
would  become  his  own ;  drew  such  a  picture  of  peace 
and  happiness,  such  grandeur  as  his  wife,  that,  although 
your  face  haunted  me  through  it  all,  I  consented.  He 
took  me  to  a  hotel,  where  a  girl  he  had  sent  remained 
my  companion  over-night,  and  the  following  morning 
my  dress  was  exchanged  for  elegant  garments  supplied 
by  him,  and  the  girl  and  I  entered  a  carriage  and  were 
driven  awray.  For  seven  days  we  traveled  alone,  when 
we  reached  this  place,  and  were  installed  in  a  beautiful 
villa  on  the  outskirts  of  the  town. 

"  '  A  day  later,  Von  Brieloff  arrived,  and  declared  I 
was  considered  dead  by  my  amiable  relative  and  friends ; 
and  the  same  evening  we  were  quietly  married,  the 
only  witnesses  being  my  maid  and  the  coachman ;  the 
minister,  of  course,  being  a  stranger  to  me. 

" '  Happy  in  my  retirement,  Herr  von  Brieloff's 
frequent  absences  did  not  trouble  me.  His-  letters 
assured  me  of  his  utter  devotion,  and  he  wrote  that  I 
should  soon  come  to  the  city  to  reside  and  be  introduced 
as  Madame  von  Brieloff. 

"  '  Yesterday  he  returned,  after  a  long  absence,  and, 
taking  me  on  his  knee,  embracing  me  repeatedly,  said, 
"  What  a  pity,  sweetheart,  the  play  is  at  an  end  !  Only 
think,  I've  been  married  sure  and  in  earnest  three 


96  UNDER    THE  STORKS'   NEST. 

whole  weeks.  Of  course  I'm  not  going  to  forsake  you, 
and  I  shall  provide  handsomely  for  your  maintenance ; 
but  my  lady  wife  has  taken  it  into  her  head  that  she 
wants  to  occupy  this  place  herself  for  a  day,  a  week,  or 
a  month,  and  you  must  really  do  me  the  favor  to  vacate 
right  soon,  my  sweet." 

"  '  I  sat  like  one  struck  dead,  unable  to  move  or  utter 
a  word.  Misunderstanding  my  silence,  he  continued  : 

"'"That  is  right.  In  this  world  we  must  bear 
things  calmly,  and  take  good  and  ill  as  we  find  them." 

" '  He  was  about  to  kiss  me,  and  held  me  in  a  firm 
embrace,  when  I  started  with  horror  from  him.  He 
would  not  release  me,  and  I  spit  in  his  face. 

"  '  He  struck  me  ! 

"  '  He  left  a  great  pile  of  gold  on  the  table,  and  was 
gone.  Returning  after  a  few  moments,  he  said,  "  I 
trust,  miss,  you  will  take  care  of  yourself, — you  and  the 
infant." 

"  '  Mocking  my  distress  thus,  he  left  the  house. 

"  '  Tortured  beyond  expression,  crazed  with  my  dis- 
graceful situation,  I  lived  through  the  day,  waiting  for 
the  evening  shadows,  so  that  I  could  steal  unseen  away 
and  end  my  existence.  And  then  the  merciful  goodness 
of  God  brought  me  to  you,  that  I  might  ask  your  for- 
giveness for  the  misery  I  have  caused  you,  and  to  save 
me  from  the  crime  of  self-murder.  Charles,  dear 
Charles,  again  tell  me  you  feel  no  hatred  towards  me. 
Here  are  all  his  letters.  I  sent  for  them  to  prove  that 
I  was  justified  in  believing  myself  entitled  to  the  name 
I  bore  these  past  months.  Proud,  foolish,  and  wrong 
I  have  been,  but  not  lost  to  all  honor.  Remember,  I 
was  so  young,  so  solitary  and  miserable.  One  prayer 


UNDER    THE  STORKS'   NEST.  97 

more  grant  me ;  it  is  my  dying  prayer :  do  not  seek  to 
avenge  my  wrongs.  Promise/  she  begged,  as  I  hesi- 
tated, burning  with  eager  longing  to  hold  the  fiend  in 
my  clutches.  ( Promise  by  all  that  I  have  endured,  by 
the  memory  of  our  love !  Oh,  Charles,  for  your  honor's 
sake,  let  my  shame  be  buried  with  me ;  let  me  die  in 
the  assurance  that  I  shall  not  burden  your  life  with 
more  trouble  and  unrest  by  my  act.  And  I  know  in 
time  you  will  find  a  wife  and  home,  and  you  will  think 
kindly  of  me  then.' 

"  I  bent  my  lips  to  her  white  hand,  and  would  have 
kissed  it,  but,  putting  both  arms  around  my  neck,  she 
pressed  a  soft  kiss  on  my  lips,  and  I  gave  her  my 
promise  I  would  leave  him  to — God ! 

"  I  tore  myself — overcome  by  the  feelings  of  love, 
sorrow,  and  revenge — away,  and  as  if  insane  I  rushed 
out  into  the  night.  It  was  snowing  and  blowing  and 
storming  terribly.  One  of  those  early  fall  storms  had 
come  up;  but  I  did  not  mind  it;  I  tore  open  the 
clothes  on  my  breast,  so  that  I  could  breathe ;  I  was 
suffocating  with  the  internal  elements,  and  laid  my 
bosom  bare  to  the  hail  and  snow.  All  night  I  walked, 
until  composure  was  in  a  measure  mine  again. 

"  Martha,  child,  no  tongue  can  tell  the  agony  of  that 
night. 

"  When  I  came  back,  Eva  was  dead ! 

"  The  flower  that  bloomed  for  me  was  broken  by  the 
destroying  hand  of  a  heartless  knave.  In  the  church- 
yard of  that  little  French  hamlet  my  darling  sleeps. 
Do  you  know  now  where  I  go  at  a  certain  season  once 
a  year  ? 

"  I  married  years  later  a  good,  gentle  woman,  with 
E  9 


98  UNDER    THE  STORKS'   NEST. 

whom  I  spent  many  happy  days ;   but  my  first  love 
never  was  forgotten. 

"Dear  child,  will  you  think  less  of  your  old  uncle 
now  that  you  know  his  heart's  secret?" 

"  My  poor,  good  uncle!"  said  Martha,  caressing  his 
hand,  and  wiping  away  the  tears  on  her  cheeks.  "  But 
what  became  of  Herr  von  Brieloff?" 
.  "  Nothing ;  he  is  the  same  smooth  villain  to-day ; 
prosperous  in  rascality,  a  scamp  with  an  excellent 
digestion,  and  a  conscience  like  a  rock  ;  just  as  you 
see  him  daily  walking,  riding,  or  driving,  well  pre- 
served under  the  gentle  smiles  of  fortune." 

"  The  same  Yon  Brieloff— 

"  Yes,  the  same  whose  son  received  such  a  delightful 
caning  from  Bernhard  on  the  street,  and  now  struts 
about  with  the  glittering  epaulets  of  a  lieutenant  of  the 
guards,  and  follows  in  the  footsteps  of  his  worthy 
father.  The  apple  ^oes  not  fall  far  from  the  tree,  par- 
ticularly when  root  and  core  are  both  wormy  and  bad. 
I  always  said  so,  Martha. 

"  The  war  brought  us  together  unavoidably.  Pre- 
vious to  that  I  had  collected  every  proof  of  his  scoun- 
drelism,  and  the  letters  written  in  the  character  of 
husband  to  poor  Eva. 

"  I  even  saved  his  life  on  one  occasion,  and  when  he 
called  on  me  to  express  his  gratitude  I  told  him  to  go 
to  Eva's  grave  with  his  thanks.  You  should  have  seen 
his  coward  face  pale  and  his  wicked  form  tremble ! 

"  Some  years  later  I  discovered  that  he  had  made 
himself  liable  to  penal  servitude  by  fraudulent  signa- 
tures and  false  pretenses  in  some  transactions  with  per- 
sons I  was  acquainted  with.  I  bought  up  all  the 


UNDER    THE  STORKS'    NEST.  99 

evidence,  and  hounded  him  until  I  gained  a  written 
acknowledgment  of  his  shameful  act.  Then  I  bade 
him  begone  in  safety,  unless  the  time  should  come 
when  I  should  need  them,  and  for  that  he  was  answer- 
able. 

l'  I  shall  never  use  them.  Have  I  not  given  Eva 
my  sacred  promise?  But  so  long  as  he  and  I  live,  so 
long  shall  I  torment  him.  With  all  his  riches,  and 
station,  and  seeming  prosperity,  he  knows  that  I  hold 
the  power  to  divest  him  of  all, — can  send  him  to  end 
his  days  in  disgrace  and  imprisonment !  That  is  my 
revenge ! 

"Now  let  us  return  to  our  people,  little  Martha; 
they  are  very  likely  seeking  us  before  this.  But  of 
what  we  have  spoken  never  repeat  a  word.  Your 
father  knows  nothing  about  the  story  of  my  lost  Eva, 
or  of  the  peculiar  interest  I  hold  in  that  other  indi- 
vidual." 

The  day,  with  its  incidents  and  pleasures,  came  to  an 
end,  and  when  late  in  the  evening  the  party  returned 
home,  the  moon  was  shining  calmly  over  the  house. 

After  alighting  from  the  carriage,  Mrs.  Berndal  re- 
mained standing  where  she  had  a  complete  view  of  the 
gable-roof,  and  gazed  eagerly  upward. 

"  What  are  you  looking  for,  Lottie  ?"  asked  the 
judge. 

"  The  storks,  Ferdinand.  The  old  one  is  not  stand- 
ing on  the  chimney  as  usual,  and  the  nest  is  empty!" 

"  Quite  probable.  I  have  observed  for  several  days 
they  have  been  making  preparations  for  departure,  and 
holding  migratory  consultations  in  their  air  assemblages. 
The  time  is  come." 


100  UNDER    THE  STORKS'   NEST. 

"Yes,  the  time  has  come/'  repeated,  thoughtfully 
and  sadly,  his  wife. 

"  '  A  stork  on  the  roof  brings  good  luck,  they  say. 

Good  luck  leaves  the  house  when  the  stork  flies  away.'  " 

"  Stuff  and  nonsense !  Why,  old  lady,  for  twenty 
years  and  more  our  storks  have  come,  and  gone,  and 
come  again,  and  you  pay  attention  to  the  prating  of  an 
old  crone.  The  superstitious " 

"  '  The  storks  on  the  roof — and  a  home  full  of  glee ; 
The  storks  are  flown — he  alone  remains  to  thee.'  " 

Mrs.  Berndal  continued,  as  if  she  had  not  heard  him. 

The  judge  placed  his  arm  around  her,  saying,  as  they 
walked  towards  the  house,  "Away  with  such  absurd 
thoughts,  wife  !  the  birds  will  return  with  the  spring !" 

"  God  grant  it !" 

"  Good-night !  sleep  well !"  resounded  from  merry, 
happy  voices. 

"  Good-night !  good-night !  Uncle  Thomas  and  Al- 
bert." 

The  doors  were  closed,  and  quiet  reigned. 

"Good  luck  leaves  the  house  when  the  stork  flies  away." 


UNDER    THE  STORKS'    NEST. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

ACCORDING  to  agreement,  Judge  Berndal  and 
family  visited  his  daughter  in  her  husband's  home, 
and  Mrs.  Berndal  conquered  in  a  measure  the  spirit 
of  foreboding  that  came  over  her  like  an  ominous 
cloud  on  the  day  of  their  visit  to  the  gypsy-camp. 

These  wandering  fortune-tellers  and  jugglers  had 
likewise  disappeared,  as  if  the  earth  had  swallowed 
them,  for  when  the  city  authorities  sent  an  official  to 
warn  them,  under  penalty  of  arrest,  to  leave  the  coun- 
try, not  a  trace  of  them  was  be  found. 

Gone,  like  and  with  the  storks,  only  the  latter  had  at 
least  left  their  nest  behind  them. 

The  brilliant  hues  of  October,  with  its  numberless 
tints 'and  beautiful  emblems  of  death  and  resurrection, 
were  spread  over  the  land,  appealing  to  the  eye  and 
the  heart. 

Morituri  te  salutant !  "  We,  the  dying,  greet  you !" 
said  the  falling  leaves  to  a  lonely  old  man,  making 
his  way  slowly  through  the  forest.  His  bowed  head 
was  covered  with  silvery  white  hair ;  his  hands  were 
crossed  behind  him ;  his  steps  were  uncertain,  as  if 
his  limbs  were  weak  with  age.  Broken  in  spirit  also, 
he  seated  himself  under  a  tree,  his  sad  glance  roving 
over  the  autumnal  scene,  and  murmured, — 

"Winter  touches  nature  gently;  change  and  death 
are  robbed  of  their  grim  hideonsness;  transformation 

9* 


102  UNDER    THE  STORKS'    NEST. 

and  extinction  are  here  dressed  gayly,  as  if  for  the  fes- 
tivities that  know  not  of  dying,  yet  ultimately  they  are 
but  dust! 

"To  me  alone  change  and  parting  come  decked  in 
gloom.  Merrily  all  nature  sings;  the  leaves  seem 
dancing  in  ecstatic  glee  in  falling.  Can  death  indeed 
be  also  the  bearer  of  joy?  Is  death  life?  or  is  it  what 
it  seems,  the  messenger  of  utter  nothingness  and  corrup- 
tion,— a  harrow  to  make  the  soul  tremble?  With  the 
knife  and  the  probe  cool  human  reason  searches  the 
nerves  and  muscles  of  the  human  form,  and  says,  'Life 
is  extinct  for  all  time:  we  find  no  vestige  of  a  soul!' 

"O  faith!  how  we  cling  to  thee  and  thy  sweet 
promises!  My  loved  ones  cannot  die  forever;  I  will 
not  believe  it,  or  I  should  curse  God ! 

"Oh,  thy  hand  rests  heavily  on  me,  thou  Creator  of 
life  and  death!" 

The  old  man  bowed  his  face  in  his  hands  and  wept. 
One  year  ago,  he  faced  the  world  in  the  pride  and  vigor 
of  manhood, — prosperous,  hale,  and  without  a  sorrow; 
to-day,  scarcely  his  most  intimate  friends  could  recog- 
nize, in  this  dejected,  white-headed  man,  Judge  Berndal. 

The  tenth  of  October,  one  year  ago,  a  social  gather- 
ing had  assembled  in  honor  of  Judge  Berndal's  natal 
day,  also  in  memory  of  his  election,  thirty-five  years 
ago,  to  the  magisterial  office,  the  duties  of  which  he 
had  discharged  faithfully,  to  his  own  credit  and  that 
of  the  corporation,  during  all  that  time. 

Uncle  Thomas  was  impatient  for  the  nuptials  of  his 
nephew  and  his  little  favorite,  Martha,  and  grumbled 
constantly  at  the  delay. 

Mrs.  Berndal  assured  him  the  preparations  were  pro- 


UNDER    THE  STORKS'    NEST. 

grossing  with  all  possible  haste,  but  the  persistent  old 
uncle  insisted  the  day  should  be  set,  and  was  obliged  to 
be  contented  with  the  two  months'  distant  holidays, 
during  which  it  was  settled  the  wedding  should  take 
place. 

"Botheration  and  fussing!"  he  exclaimed.  "I  could 
have  the  whole  outfit  ready  in  three  days  if  you  would 
leave  the  arrangements  to  me." 

Nevertheless,  he  was  happy,  because  he  had  gained 
his  point  in  having  the  important  day  appointed. 

"We  are  a  pair  of  lucky  old  boys  anyhow,  Nanta," 
said  he  to  the  judge.  "Here  I  am,  after  having  with 
lamblike  resignation  settled  myself  to  a  lonely  and  for- 
saken old  age,  the  last  scion  of  the  noble  race  and 
house  of  Thomas,  hobbling  and  limping  in  lonesome 
solitude  down  the  journey  of  life,  when  suddenly  rises 
up  to  me  a  relative  and  son;  and  soon  I  shall  hold  on 
my  knee,  as  becomes  a  respectable  uncle,  one,  two — a 
houseful  of  grandchildren;  for  I  shall  be  grandfather 
and  grandmother,  on  the  father's  side,  you  know,  and 
I  shall  have  them  riding  on  my  wooden  leg  and  take 
them  walking.  By  thunder!  I  shall  hire  myself  out 
as  nurse  to  these  wonderful  toddlers.  Say,  Martha, 
engage  me  now,  will  you?  Lord!  Lord!  the  very 
thought  of  that  time  fills  me  with  joy;  and  may  I  be 
hanged  by  the  neck  if  it  don't  come  true !" 

But  Martha  found  it  necessary  to  attend  to  some  im- 
portant matters  in  another  room  just  then,  and  did  not 
wait  to  reply,  and  Uncle  Thomas  turned  his  attention 
to  the  judge  again. 

"Behold  yourself,  thou  ancient  castle;  are  you  not 
as  comfortable  on  earth  as  if  you  were  already  pillowed 


104  UNDER    THE  STORKS'    NEST. 

in  Abraham's  bosom?  Are  you  not  as  frisky  as  a  fish 
in  a  brook?  Have  you  not  got  the  best  wife  in  Christen- 
dom,"— Mrs.  Berndal  laughingly  made  him  a  courtesy, 
— "  and  children  good  and  brave,  that  love  and  honor 
you?" 

Bernhard  jumped  up,  crossed  his  hands  in  mock 
humility  over  his  breast,  and  made  the  old  gentleman 
a  deep  obeisance. 

"Bomb-shell  and  grape-shot,  I  say!  Three  cheers 
for  all !  Hip!  hip!  and  hip  again!  Let's  take  a  drink, 
Nanta.  May  you  live,  and  your  wife  live,  and  your 
children  live,  and  Albert  live,  and  I  live,  fifty  years  in 
health  and  blessedness!" 

The  glasses  were  emptied,  and  the  judge  said,  "Fifty 
years  is  a  long  span  for  people  of  our  years,  Thomas. 
We  must  make  room  for  others,  my  friend ;  say  twenty, 
and  I  will  joyfully  accept  of  the  fate.  Truly,  we  are  a 
happy  family,  a  household  united  by  the  ties  of  confi- 
dence and  affection." 

"We  shall  soon  be  dispersed  and  forsaken  by  our 
loved  ones,"  said  Mrs.  Berndal,  sadly. 

"A  natural  consequence,  wife.  It  will  be  lonesome 
and  hard  to  bear  at  first,  but  is  it  not  the  doom  of  all 
parents?  Did  not  Hanisa,  the  renowned  prophetess  of 
her  people,  say, — 

"  '  The  storks  on  the  roof — and  a  home  full  of  glee ; 
The  storks  are  flown — he  alone  remains  to  thee  '?" 

He  reached  her  his  hand  and  clasped  hers  with  ex- 
pressive tenderness,  and  she  whispered, — 
"Thank  God  that  you  remain  to  me!"' 
"Let  us  give  due  respect  to  the  prophetess,  since  her 


UNDER    THE  STORKS'   NEST.  1Q5 

lines  of  prediction  are  so  soon  to  be  fulfilled  in  this 
most  mysterious  manner.  What  say  you,  Albert? 
will  her  prophetic  sagacity  strike  us  with  the  same 
profound  result?  I  tremble  at  the  thought :  don't  you?" 

"Ay,  Bernhard  ;  but  did  I  not  tell  you  the  sibylline 
wisdom  was  penetrating,  the  day  I  found  you  on  the 
greensward,  like  unto  the  mournful  King  Saul  ?" 

"  Vulga  me  dios,"  interrupted  Uncle  Thomas ;  "  do 
me  the  favor  never  to  mention  that  cursed  gypsy  brood 
again.  It  makes  my  flesh  creep  whenever  I  think  of 
that  devilish  old  hag  and  the  satanic  grin  on  her 

a— 

Martha,  who  had  entered  the  room  again,  quietly 
stole  back  of  him  and  placed  her  hand  over  his  mouth, 
at  the  same  time  kissing  his  cheek,  and  the  excitable- 
tempered  old  gentleman  forgot  the  rest  of  his  speech  in 
pressing  a  hearty  revenge  on  her  rosy  lips. 

"  I  know  how  to  conquer  the  evil  spirit,  uncle,"  said 
she,  as  she  seated  herself  at  the  piano  and  played  one 
of  his  favorite  pieces  of  music. 

Thus  the  evening  passed  until  they  separated  for  the 
night,  Albert  and  Martha  arranging  to  meet  the  next 
evening  at  a  tavern  some  distance  in  the  country, — he 
on  his  return  from  the  city,  she  after  a  day's  sketching 
in  the  neighborhood. 

The  following  day  proved  favorable,  and  father  and 
mother  accompanied  Martha  to  the  door  as  she  took  her 
departure  with  her  portfolio  and  lunch-basket. 

A  gentleman  acquaintance  passing  at  that  moment 
accosted  the  young  lady  with  friendly  greeting : 

"  So  early  abroad,  lovely  fairy?  are  you  going  to  rob 
the  grass  of  its  beautifying  dew  ?  I  hope  you  have  not 


106  UNDER    THE  STORKS'    NEST. 

• 

neglected  to  provide  yourself  with  a  stout  pair  of  shoes 
of  unromantic  leather  ?" 

"  Rest  easy,  sir ;  my  fairy  toilet  is  complete,  even  to 
the  essential  of  calf-skin  fairy  boots." 

"  Good-by,  mother ;  father,  adieu,"  said  she,  leaving 
them,  with  a  last  wave  of  her  hand. 

The  gentleman  remained  a  moment,  speaking  to  her 
parents,  then  rapidly  followed.  Overtaking  her,  he 
said. — 

"  Permit  me  to  accompany  you,  pretty  elf;  'tis  said 
to  be  lucky  to  meet  a  fairy ;  do  not  deny  it  by  an  in- 
auspicious refusal." 

"  I  shall  be  pleased  to  have  your  company  as  far  as 
the  high  bridge,  if  you  really  think  your  powers  of 
endurance  can  survive  such  bliss,"  she  retorted,  laugh- 
ingly. 

"  Ah,  Miss  Martha,"  he  returned,  with  comic  earnest- 
ness, "  I  could  endure  such  exquisite  bliss  from  early 
morn  till  late  at  night ;  yes,  even  survive  the  joy  across 
the  bridge.  But  tell  me,  beautiful  forest " 

"Imp?" 

"  No, — bird  I  was  going  to  say,  you  provoking 
par- 

"  Parrot?"  she  interrupted,  with  a  roguish  glance. 

"  Your  pardon  !  Paragon  of  lovely  women,"  said 
he,  bowing.  "  Oh,  you  incorrigible  tease,  you  are  in 
one  of  your  charming  humors  this  morning,  and  mercy 
is  not  a  part  of  it." 

"  Thanks  for  your  good  opinion  ;  you  are  gallantry 
itself.  However,  to  prove  that  I  can  be  serious  even 
thus  early  in  the  morning,  allow  me  to  ask,  how  is  your 
sister,  your  dear  Annie?" 


UNDER    THE  STORKS'   NEST.  1Q7 

This  lady  was  a  friend  of  Martha's ;  a  young  widow, 
who,  with  her  infant  child,  resided  with  her  brother, 
Captain  von  Kleist. 

"The  'dear  Annie'  was  sleeping  so  soundly  when 
I  left  home  that  a  little  voice  at  her  side  appeared 
unable  to  wield  its  accustomed  authority  and  move  the 
slumberer  at  will.  I  shouldn't  be  the  least  surprised  if 
on  awaking  she  will  imagine  a  nightingale,  or  a  sweet- 
throated  lark,  singing  to  her,  when  it  is  only  the  little 
Emmie  in  her  cradle." 

"  What  takes  you  abroad  so  early  ?  if  it  is  not  too 
inquisitive  on  my  part  to  ask ;  you  are  in  civilian's 
dress,  and  if  it  were  not  for  the  want  of  gun,  pouch, 
and  dog,  I  should  say  Nimrod,  the  mighty  huntsman, 
was  walking  at  my  side ;  though,  indeed,  he  seems  tame 
as  the  shepherd  of  Arcadia." 

"  Nevertheless,  you  judge  correctly,  Miss  Martha ;  I 
am  going  fox-hunting  with  Baron  Weller,  the  best  shot 
in  the  country,  and  the  most  amiable  fellow  and  enter- 
taining companion  that  ever  chased  the  stag  or  sighed 
at  lady's  feet.  We  have  a  rookery  in  common,  and 
keep  our  traps  there.  And  you,  elf,  fairy,  bird  of 
paradise,  in  what  direction  will  you  take  the  light  of 
your  countenance,  and  what  blessed  location  shall  you 
honor  with  your  sketch-book  to-day  ?" 

"  I  am  undecided  ;  I  think,  however,  as  it  is  so  early 
yet,  I  shall  go  into  the  vicinity  of  the  marsh.  There 
are  some  splendid  views  near  the  Three  Oaks.  Are 
you  familiar  with  the  locality?" 

"  I  am,  indeed.  But,  mercy !  what  possesses  you  to 
go  there,  to  the  horrid  moor,  the  resort  of  owls,  which 
spectres  haunt  in  broad  daylight?  ,  Adventurous  elf, 


108  UNDER    THE  STORKS'    NEST. 

what  can  you  want  among  the  malignant,  ghostly  in- 
habitants of  that  place?  Do  you  not  know  the  spirits 
of  the  old  monks  haunt  it,  and  drag  to  destruction  the 
daring  mortal  who  ventures  near?  Most  charming  elf 
there  is  not  a  man  in  my  regiment  brave  enough  to 
spend  a  day  near  it  alone.  Think  of  it ! — not  a  habit  i- 
tion  of  any  kind  within  two  hours'  walk  of  the  God- 
forsaken place." 

Martha  laughed,  as  she  replied, — 

"  Probably  your  gallant  grenadiers  feel  like  their 
valiant  captain  ;  am  I  not  right  ?" 

"Forsooth,  cunning  elf,  you  are;  but  the  'valiant 
captain'  has  cogent  reasons  for  remembering  the  moor 
with  horror  as  long  as  he  lives." 

"Indeed!  Did  you  positively  see  ghosts  stalking 
about,  most  illustrious  captain?"  queried  Martha,  with 
ironical  badinage ;  "  pray  tell  me  all  about  it.  I  dearly 
love  to  listen  to  tales  of  thrilling,  blood-curdling  hor- 
ror, and  I  have  never  been  able  to  find  the  individual 
heretofore  who  has  had  direct  intercourse  with  a  real 
live  ghost." 

"  Neither  have  I,  pretty  elf ;  but  it  was  only  by  the 
merest  chance  that  I  escaped  the  disagreeable  necessity 
of  joining  the  spiritual  hobgoblins,  and  if  you  will  listen 
to  the  story  and  be  warned  against  going  to  that  pesti- 
lential moor,  I  will  tell  you  what  happened  me." 

"To  your  story,  captain.  You  enjoin  a  warning 
without  telling  how  you  escaped  so  narrowly  from  the 
fatal  fall  into  .the  disembodied  realms." 

"  Laugh  away,  you  mocking  fairy  ;  but  I  can  assure 
you  it  was  not  a  laughing-matter  to  fall  into  the  mate- 
rialistic filth  of  a  bottomless  marsh. 


UNDER    THE  STORKS'   NEST.  1Q9 

"  When  I  was  quite  a  young  man,  and  you  and  the 
1  dear  Annie'  were  still  in  pinafores  and  the  maternal 
enjoyment  of  a  china  baby,  I  frequently  went  abroad 
with  my  gun,  in  the  company  of  our  game-keeper,  on 
hunting  expeditions  in  the  neighborhood.  During  one 
of  these  excursions  in  the  vicinity  of  the  moor,  I 
brought  down  a  magnificent  eagle.  Delighted  with  my 
luck,  and  deceived  by  the  apparent  solidity  and  dryness 
of  the  ground,  I  started  to  secure  my  booty.  I  had 
scarcely  taken  twenty  steps  when  the  crust  of  earth 
broke  under  my  feet,  and  I  found  myself  sinking  into 
the  quagmire,  held  in  a  suction  that  left  me  unable  to 
move  a  foot  upward,  and  sinking  down,  down  into  the 
frightful  pit. 

"  Philip,  the  game-keeper,  fortunately  had  not  wan- 
dered beyond  the  sound  of  my  voice,  and  I  am  not 
ashamed  to  acknowledge  I  howled  and  roared  like  a 
lion  for  help.  Inch  by  inch  the  morass  rose  around 
me,  until  my  arms  almost  rested  on  the  treacherous 
crust.  Happily,  my  gun  was  one  of  the  long  Spanish 
muskets  generally  used  for  duck-hunting.  This  I  placed 
in  front  of  me,  my  arms  spread  over  it,  my  hands 
clutching  at  the  grass-roots  and  shrubby  matter  about 
me,  realizing  that  before  long  this  black  horror  would 
be  in  my  face,  and  over  my  head,  and  that  I  should  be 
suffocated ! 

"An  awful  situation,  pretty  fairy.  Philip  was  not 
idle,  and  while  shouting  repeatedly,  '  Don't  move,  for 
God's  sake !'  (as  if  I  could),  he  was  cutting  branches  and 
willowy  fir  boughs  and  throwing  them  lengthwise  and 
crosswise,  forming  a  kind  of  bridge  of  them.  Along 
this  he  crept  until  he  reached  me,  but  not  before  I  had 

10 


HO  UNDER    THE  STORKS'    NEST. 

suffered  a  thousand  torturing  deaths,  and  already  the 
mire  was  above  my  shoulders.  If  it  had  not  been  for 
my  gun  he  would  not  have  been  able  to  reach  me  in 
time. 

"  God  alone  knows  how  he  managed  it,  but  the  brave 
fellow  saved  me,  regardless  of  the  danger  to  his  own  life. 
I  lost  consciousness,  and  when  I  recovered  my  senses  I 
was  lying  on  solid  ground,  my  eagle  beside  me. 

"The  noble  fellow  is  comfortably  housed  for  life 
on  the  Falkenburg  estate,  in  charge  of  the  hunting- 
seat.  The  eagle  is  the  same  you  have  seen  at  my 
house,  keeping  guard,  with  stuffed  importance,  over 
my  rifle-cabinet. 

"  Since  that  day  I  have  never  desired  to  visit  the 
detestable  spot  again ;  my  experience  will  keep  me  at  a 
respectful  distance." 

"  I  certainly  cannot  blame  you  after  listening  to  your 
s'ory,  and  I  shall  select  a  different  route  for  my  sketch- 
ing views,  where  reminiscences  of  your  distressing 
plight  will  not  haunt  me,"  replied  Martha,  seriously. 

In  a  short  time  they  reached  the  bridge;  while 
crossing,  they  paused  on  its  elevated  centre  to  admire 
the  scenery  and  the  magnificence  of  the  landscape,  the 
prospect  covering  miles  of  picturesque  land  and  water. 

On  the  other  side  they  parted,  with  a  few  polite  re- 
marks, just  as  Lieutenant  von  Brieloff  and  a  squad  of 
soldiers  passed  by  on  their  way  to  the  city.  Farther 
on,  a  country-girl,  on  her  way  to  town  with  apples, 
offered  Martha  some. 

Captain  von  Kleist  crossed  over  the  country  road 
towards  the  Fox  Mountains,  and  Martha  walked  in 
the  opposite  direction  along  the  sea-coast. 


UNDER    THE  STORKS'    NEST.  m 

In  the  evening  Albert,  according  to  agreement,  went 
to  the  tavern  to  meet  his  intended,  but  she  had  not 
been  there.  He  waited  until  long  after  dark,  but  she 
did  not  come;  and  at  last,  without  feeling  particularly 
alarmed,  he  started  for  home,  believing  she  would  be 
there  before  him. 

On  arriving  there,  however,  he  found  that  Martha 
had  not  returned.  He  set  out  again  immediately, 
and,  uncertain  what  direction  she  might  have  taken, 
he  waited  at  the  bridge  until  after  midnight;  but  all 
in  vain ;  and  once  more  he  returned  home,  to  find  the 
family  distressed  and  anxious,  for  no  Martha  was  there. 

Judge  Berndal,  unable  to  bear  the  suspense,  resolved, 
although  it  was  after  two  o'clock  at  night,  to  go  to  the 
residence  of  Captain  von  Kleist,  with  whom  she  had 
left  the  house  in  the  morning,  trusting  he  could  give 
some  information  regarding  her  movements. 

Captain  von  Kleist  had  not  returned,  his  sister  in- 
formed the  judge,  and  she  had  wratched  in  the  greatest 
uneasiness  all  night  for  his  momentary  coming. 

Incomprehensible  as  the  absence  of  both  appeared, 
the  troubled  father  was  obliged  to  return  to  the  now 
thoroughly-alarmed  family  with  this  unsatisfactory  re- 
sult. 

Days  passed,  and  no  trace  of  Martha  or  the  captain 
could  be  discovered.  Hope  was  buried  in  the  convic- 
tion that  Martha  had  met  with  misfortune  and  death, 
and  l.er  fate  cast  a  pall  of  deepest  gloom  on  the  loving 
hearts  at  home.  The  disappearance  of  the  young  girl 
was  connected  with  the  likewise  mysterious  absence  of 
Captain  von  Kleist.  Lieutenant  von  BrielofF,  with 
commendable  enterprise,  spread  the  report  over  the 


112  UNDER    THE  STORKS'   NEST. 

city,  that  he  had  seen  them  in  company  crossing  the 
bridge.  The  country-girl's  testimony  of  having  seen 
them  walking  in  opposite  directions  was  very  well  in 
its  way;  but  people  will  believe  that  which  presents 
human  nature  in  its  basest  light.  The  occurrence  was 
discussed  with  fabulous  additions  and  peculiar  sug- 
gestions ;  a  report  even  gaining  a  hearing  that  the  lost 
ones  had  dashed  themselves  headlong  over  the  bridge 
into  the  water.  To  be  sure,  people  could  not  give  any 
reason  for  such  a  rash  act ;  still,  for  an  extemporaneous 
fiction,  it  was  the  most  harmless  one. 

Very  likely  it  was  the  result  of  a  secret  love-affair 
between  the  two, — a  stand-off  between  pride  and  heart. 
Martha  loved  the  captain,  and  was  engaged  to  Albert ; 
perforce,  duty,  love,  etc. 

Then,  again,  who  could  believe  a  stupid  country-girl, 
when  Lieutenant  von  Brieloff  had  sworn  to  having  seen 
them  gazing  in  melancholy  silence  into  the  waves  be- 
low ?  And  was  not  his  word  supported  by  the  testi- 
mony of  some  thirty  grenadiers  in  uniform,  including 
the  drummer  and  fifer  ?  Very  strange,  that  two  good- 
looking  young  folks  should  take  such  an  early  morning 
walk  together,  if  there  was  not  something  mysterious 
back  of  it. 

"  I  have  been  prepared  for  this,"  said  one  wise 
woman  to  another.  "  I  do  not  profess  to  know  more 
than  some  others  in  this  place,  but  I  was  certain  some- 
thing would  happen  in  that  family.  My  ears  were 
given  me  to  hear  with,  and  my  eyes  were  given  me  to 
see  with,  just  as  well  as  other  folks';  but,  Lord  bless 
you,  they  give  us  to  understand  plain  enough  that  we 
are  idiots, — that  is  to  say,  in  their  opinion. 


UNDER    THE  STORKS'    NEST.  H3 

"Now,  I  don't  say  one  word  against  the  judge  and 
his  wife.  They  may  be  very  clever,  honorable  people. 
But  you  cannot  deny  that  they  had  secretly  a  child  of 
unknown  parentage  in  their  family.  To  be  sure,  it  was 
four  years  after  they  were  married ;  and  the  mother  of 
the  young  one  drowned  herself.  Although  nobody 
knew  anything  about  the  woman,  it  seems  very  strange 
Judge  Berndal  should  happen  to  find  the  child  just  in 
the  nick  of  time ;  and  his  wife  takes  it  as  her  own, 
and  keeps  the  affair  mighty  quiet.  Then  all  at  once  a 
rich  uncle  claims  the  boy.  This,  of  course,  is  all  acci- 
dental. Yes,  but  such  things  never  happen  in  my 
family  ! 

"  And  such  management !  Such  a  way  to  bring  up 
children  !  They  walked  right  over  everybody.  Those 
boys  were  the  worst  scamps  I  ever  saw.  No  fence  was 
too  high,  no  hedge  too  thick,  no  ditch  too  wide  for  them 
to  get  over.  And  the  way  they  ruined  clothes  was 
scandalous ;  and  they  cut  up  and  carried  on  so  awful 
they  had  to  be  put  in  the  lock-up,  and  I  would  not  let 
my  little  Charley  associate  with  them  any  more ;  that 
was  too  much  of  a  disgrace  for  me  !" 

And  the  other  wise  woman  said,  "Too  true,  Mrs. 
Schneider.  And  the  girls  were  not  far  behind.  They 
wore  out  more  shoes  than  any  other  young  person  in 
town;  and  wild, — oh!  such  filibusters  in  the  shape  of 
girls  you  never  saw.  One  day  I  had  to  take  some 
shoes  to  the  house  that  one  of  the  misses  had  ordered. 
I  found  the  front  door  open,  and  I  thought  no  harm 
to  take  a  look  at  things,  and  was  walking  along  the 
corridor,  when  the  two  creatures  came  storming  in 
from  the  garden,  and  frightening  me  almost  to  death, 

10* 


114  UNDER    THE  STORKS'    NEST. 

laughing  and  screaming  at  the  top  of  their  lungs, 
'  Good-evening,  mother  shoemaker,  good-evening;  have 
you  brought  my  boots?'  And  what  think  you  they 
had  in  their  hands  ?  Ugh !  I  nearly  fainted  at  the 
sight ! 

"  One  had  a  horrible  spider,  and  the  other  an  out- 
rageous, nasty  toad !  I  trembled  with  fright ;  but  the 
wretches  only  laughed,  and  one  opened  the  mouth  of 
the  toad,  and  the  other  put  the  spider  into  it,  saying, 
'A  good  digestion,  my  friend,'  and  then  they  let  the 
poor  beast  hop  away. 

"  Oh,  you  should  have  seen  that  unhappy  creature  ! 
At  first  it  sat  stock  still,  and  when  the  poisonous  spider 
began  to  devour  its  internals,  it  began  to  leap  and  jump. 
It  makes  me  faint  to  think  of  it  to  this  day.  And 
away  it  went,  to  die  alone,  I  expect,  with  torture  and 
spider-bites,  and  the  heartless  hoidens  stood  there 
laughing ! 

"  When  I  went  home,  I  said  to  my  old  man, — the 
sainted  shoemaker  who  died  soon  after, — 'Shoemaker.' 
said  I, '  mark  my  words,  something  will  happen  to  that 
family ;  such  inhuman  cruelty  to  the  good  Lord's  inno- 
cent creatures  will  come  home  to  them ;'  and  pat  to  the 
words  it  has  come  true." 

There  are  a  great  many  tender-hearted  persons  in 
this  world  who  could  not  wring  a  pigeon's  neck,  but 
can  summon  a  degree  of  courage  and  fortitude  per- 
fectly wonderful  to  assist  at  the  scalding  and  plucking 
process. 

A  day  or  two  after  the  disappearance  of  his  sister, 
Dr.  Berndal  entered  a  gentlemen's  restaurant,  utterly 
worn  out  with  the  day's  excitement,  and,  physically  as 


UNDER    THE  STORKS'    NEST.  H5 

well  as  mentally  depressed,  seated  himself  at  one  of  the 
tables  to  rest. 

Directly  after  his  entrance,  Lieutenant  von  Brieloff 
came  in,  and,  passing  the  young  man  without  a  glance 
of  recognition,  joined  a  party  of  gentlemen  at  an  ad- 
joining table.  After  ordering  a  glass  of  grog,  he  slowly 
and  deliberately  said  to  his  companions, — 

"Have  you  heard  the  latest  delightful  bit  of  gossip 
about  that  Berndal  affair?  The  pretty  little  duck  has 
eloped  with  Captain  Kleist, — gone  to  England  !" 

His  companions  motioned  to  him  to  be  silent,  and 
glanced  in  the  direction  of  Dr.  Berndal ;  but,  without 
seeming  to  understand,  he  continued  still  louder : 

"  Charming  bird,  that  little  Martha.  Yon  Kleist  is 
a  lucky  dog;  I  would  like  to  stand  in  his  boots, 
by » 

Bernhard  rose.  Calm,  and  with  icy  dignity,  he 
walked  over,  and,  facing  him,  said,  "  Lieutenant  von 
Brieloff  will  give  me  the  name  of  his  informant, — the 
author  of  this  lie  ?" 

Von  Brieloff  measured  the  speaker  with  a  scornful 
glance,  and,  placing  his  eye-glasses  to  his  eyes,  he  re- 
plied, "  Ah,  Dr.  Berndal ;  really,  I  was  not  aware  of 
your  presence  ;  but  pray  do  not  annoy  me  with  any 
coarse  incivility.  I  merely  repeat  what  all  the  world 
says." 

"Indeed!"  replied  Bernhard,  quietly;  "then,  since 
you  proclaim  yourself  'all  the  world's'  trumpeter,  be 
pleased  to  herald  in  your  person  that  it  is  a  lie,  and 
that  I  declare  '  all  the  world'  an  infamous  liar,  in  as 
far  as  the  story  concerns  my  sister ;  and,  furthermore, 
that  I  pronounce  its  representative,  the  person  I  am 


116  UNDER    THE  STORKS'    NEST. 

addressing,  a  contemptible  scoundrel,  because  he  is 
capable  of  slandering  the  fame  and  honor  of  his  supe- 
rior officer  and  an  absent  gentleman  !" 

Von  Brieloff  sprang  to  his  feet  and  placed  his  hand 
on  his  sword  to  draw,  when  one  of  his  companions 
held  his  arm  to  prevent  the  act. 

Bernhard  advanced  a  step  nearer  the  enraged  man, 
saying,  "  No  occasion  to  draw  your  sword,  Lieutenant 
von  Brieloff.  I  should  regret  to  be  forced  to  renew  a 
former  acquaintance,  with  the  aid  of  my  cane,  on  a  gen- 
tleman whose  courage  appears  to  be  of  such  recent  and 
remarkable  growth.  In  the  event  of  your  desire  to 
communicate  with  me,  I  can  be  found  at  my  residence 
at  any  hour  between  this  and  eight  o'clock  to-morrow 
morning." 

Having  said  this,  he  bowed  politely  to  the  company, 
drank  his  glass  of  lemonade,  and  walked  unconcernedly 
and  tranquilly  out  of  the  establishment. 

It  was  with  difficulty  the  others  could  restrain  Von 
Brieloff  from  some  excited  and  desperate  move. 

"  A  very  disagreeable  affair,"  said  one.  "  How  could 
you  mention  the  matter,  Von  Brieloff?  We  gave  you 
the  wTink  in  time ;  why  didn't  you  change  the  subject  ? 
Did  you  not  know  him  personally,  or  did  you  not  un- 
derstand us  ?" 

"  Of  course  I  knew  him.  I  owe  him  a  score  of  old, 
and  mean  to  pay  it." 

"Look  out,  Von  Brieloff;  he  seems  a  cool  hand  ; 
he  never  moved  a  muscle  when  you  walked  over  his 
.corns." 

"  I'll  clean  him  out,  by !  I  can  snuff  a  candle 

at  twenty  paces ;  never  miss !  I'll  snuff  his  light  for 


UNDER    THE  STORKS'   NEST.  H7 

him,  the  miserable  plebeian !     I   shall  have  pistols ; 
know  how  to  use  'em." 

"  Certainly  !  certainly !"  exclaimed  a  beardless  youth, 
who  probably  would  not  have  been  so  blood-thirsty  if 
the  affair  had  been  his  own.  "  You  must  kill  him ; 
honor  demands ;  threatened  cane.  By  heaven,  kill  him 
dead !  If  it  was  me,  his  heart's  blood  should  flow ! 
The  beast !" 

Lieutenant  von  Brieloff  assured  them  all  he  would 
"snuff  the  plebeian  out;"  and  they  left  in  his  com- 
pany, satisfied  to  have  somebody  else  "snuffed  out, 
'pon  honor !" 

Bernhard  hastened  home,  and  locked  himself  in  his 
room,  his  heart  burning  and  his  blood  boiling  with 
indignation. 

So  this  was  public  sympathy  !  adding  disgrace  to 
their  distress  !  Oh,  if  his  parents  should  hear  such 
calumnious  reports  in  connection  with  their  missing 
daughter,  the  sorrow  and  shame  would  drag  their 
already  overcharged  hearts  to  the  grave  ! 

He  walked  the  floor,  his  eyes  flashing  with  bitter 
hatred  towards  the  malicious  circulator,  and  he  doubted 
not  also  inventor,  of  the  story.  The  prospect  of  stand- 
ing face  to  face  with  him,  and  of  washing  the  base  lie 
from  the  earth  with  the  coward's  blood,  or  dying  in  the 
attempt,  elated  him  beyond  bounds. 

When  Albert  returned  also  from  a  fruitless  tour  of 
inquiry,  Bernhard  related  the  circumstance  and  its  prob- 
able result. 

Inflamed  with  anger,  he  begged  to  be  permitted  to 
take  Bernhard's  place  and  avenge  the  insult  to  his 
intended  wife  and  her  family ;  but  that  was  not  to  be 


118  UNDER    THE  STORKS'    NEST. 

thought  of  for  an  instant,  and  Albert  had  to  content 
himself  as  second  for  the  time  being. 

Shortly  after,  the  anxiously-expected  challenge  ar- 
rived. 


CHAPTER    VIII. 

ABOUT  nine  o'clock  the  next  morning  two  closely- 
curtained  carriages  passed  slowly  through  the  city  gate. 
The  toll-collector  had  seen  them  pass  out  two  hours 
earlier,  and  now  advanced  to  attend  to  his  duty,  but 
started  back  horrified  at  the  sight  that  met  his  eyes. 

The  first  one  contained  Albert,  and  lying  in  his 
arms  was  the  deathly-pale  Bernhard  Berndal,  the  blood 
spattered  over  his  garments.  The  ball  of  his  opponent 
had  lodged  in  his  breast.  The  other  carriage  contained 
the  second  of  the  other  party,  supporting  the  corpse  of 
Lieutenant  von  Brieloif. 

The  toll-keeper  was  destined  to  repeated  surprising 
horrors  to-day,  for  the  carriages  with  their  ghastly  con- 
tents had  not  started  before  a  third  wagon  came  up. 
It  was  only  an  ordinary  farmer's  team,  in  charge  of  a 
farmer  and  a  forest-warder,  or  inspector.  Back  of 
them  sat  a  city  official. 

The  toll-keeper  looked  into  the  wagon,  as  in  duty 
bound,  when  the  officer  raised  a  corner  of  an  old 
blanket  covering  some  object,  and  disclosed  the  to 
him  familiar  features,  now  stark  in  death,  of  Captain 
von  Kleist. 

The  three  vehicles  rolled  over  the  bridge  with  their 
awful  burdens  and  entered  the  city. 


UNDER    THE  STORKS'   NEST.  H9 

The  previous  day,  Assistant-Warden  Bartal  had 
taken  his  dog  to  make  the  rounds  of  the  hunting- 
circuit  at  Fox  Mountain  Forest.  Nearing  a  dense  body 
of  firs,  the  dog  acted  strangely,  and  began  to  whine, — 
disappeared  in  the  shrubbery,  with  an  unearthly  howl. 
With  difficulty  Bartal  pressed  his  way  through  the 
thicket,  and  found  his  dog  pulling  and  leaping  over 
something,  that  proved  to  be  the  dead  body  of  Captain 
von  Kleist,  lying  in  a  pool  of  gore,  stiff  and  stark. 

Bartal,  a  sensible  and  intelligent  man,  left  the  body, 
and,  without  saying  a  word  to  any  one,  went  direct 
with  his  information  to  the  proper  authorities. 

The  investigating  committee  conducted  their  affairs 
with  equal  secrecy,  and  thus  the  toll-house-keeper  was 
the  first  person,  outside  of  those  connected  with  the  au- 
thorities and  Bartal,  who  had  the  remotest  conception 
of  the  terrible  fate  of  the  missing  man. 

A  death-dealing  bullet  had  penetrated  his  brain; 
another  his  breast.  There  had  evidently  been  no 
struggle :  the  hand  that  sent  the  death-shots  was  at  a 
distance  ;  and  the  case  was  never  cleared  up :  in  spite 
of  public  and  private  rewards  offered,  and  detectives' 
skill,  the  deed  remained  a  mystery. 

Lieutenant  von  Brieloff  paid  the  penalty  of  his  life 
for  the  unfounded  and  unjust  rumor  that  connected  the 
name  of  the  murdered  man  with  that  of  Judge  Berndal's 
daughter. 

But  where  was  Martha  Berndal? 

The  excitement  became  great,  and  inquiry  universal 
now,  over  the  whole  city.  No  human  being  had  seen 
them  alive  since  they  were  seen  in  parting  at  the  high 
bridge. 


120  UNDER    THE  STORKS'   NEST. 

Captain  von  Kleist  found  murdered  in  the  Fox  Moun- 
tain Forest;  Lieutenant  von  Brieloff  killed  in  a  duel; 
Dr.  Berndal  lying  at  the  point  of  death  with  his 
wounds;  Martha  Berndal  vanished  from  the  face  of 
the  earth,  for  all  trace  that  could  be  found  of  her : — 
thus  matters  stood  in  their  cloak  of  misfortune. 

One  day  it  was  rumored  that  Martha  Berndal  had 
lost  her  life  in  the  marsh.  A  peasant  had  found  a  hat 
and  shawl  that  proveTl  to  have  been  the  property  of  the 
lost  girl. 

Christian  Puttkow,  or  simply  Cris,  as  he  was  gen- 
erally called,  was  a  laboring  man  from  a  settlement  some 
miles  distant  from  the  moor.  Saturday  evening,  the 
18th  of  October,  he  had  taken  his  cart  and  axe  and 
gone  in  the  direction  of  the  dreaded  location,  where  he 
would  be  least  likely  to  be  surprised  in  his  enterprise, 
namely,  cutting  hickory-poles  where  he  paid  no  tax, 
and  where  they  were  so  abundant  they  would  not  be 
missed. 

It  was  a  bright  moonlight  evening.  Cris  stole  quietly 
along  in  the  shadow  of  the  trees  until  he  arrived  un- 
disturbed at  the  calculated  spot  in  sight  of  the  moor. 
A  thick  vapor  hovered  over  it  like  a  cloud,  completely 
obscuring  its  surface. 

Cris  was  looking  about  him  preparatory  to  his  work, 
when  he  thought  he  heard  a  sound  or  cry  from  the 
moor.  He  was  familiar  with  the  cries  of  beast  and  bird, 
and  felt  assured  this  sound  could  not  have  come  from 
either. 

Cris  was  a  healthy,  brave-spirited  man,  who  knew 
little  or  nothing  about  nerves  and  their  tenderness.  He 
was  at  home  in  the  forest,  and  prided  himself  on  his 


UNDER    THE  STORKS'   NEST.  121 

utter  disregard  of  everything  bordering  on  supersti- 
tion; he  scorned  the  nonsensical  stories  related  about 
witchcraft  and  monkish  apparitions,  although  he  had 
been  fed  on  the  usual  tales  to  which  the  peasantry  is 
addicted,  that  are  handed  down  from  one  generation  to 
another. 

The  ordinary  peasant  listens  respectfully  to  his  ortho- 
dox pastor  while  he  depicts  hell-fire,  but  he  does  not 
believe  in  it  entirely,  because  it  is  personally  supposed 
to  be  uncomfortable.  Still,  he  accepts  the  devil,  horns, 
hoofs,  and  tail,  unquestioningly.  This  black  gentleman 
used  to  make  his  appearance  regularly  once  a  year  in  an 
assembly  of  Freemasons  and  carry  away  bodily  one  of 
their  number;  that  is  Avhy  St.  John's  day  was  one  of 
fear  and  trembling  to  the  Freemason.  Of 'late  days 
he  sends  his  granddam  to  catch  one  of  their  number  by 
the  nape  of  the  neck  and  reverse  his  head.  Yes,  the 
Masons  have  a  bond  of  sympathy  with  his  majesty  and 
gld  Liza  and  the  black  cat.  This  is  one  of  the  honest 
beliefs  of  the  peasantry;  still,  they  will  swear  one  and 
all  that  they  are  above  superstition. 

Cris  was  brave;  he  would  have  taken  a  mad  bull 
by  the  horns  or  have  faced  anything  mundane  without 
a  thought  of  fear.  But  this  moor  was  a  doubtful 
place.  Cris  possessed  a  conscience ;  he  was  engaged 
in  an  unlawful  undertaking,  and  this  cry  startled  him 
out  of  his  stoicism.  He  clutched  at  one  of  his  stolen 
poles  and  gazed  in  helpless  amazement  towards  the 
foggy  cloud  from  whence  the  sound  seemed  to  come. 
Again  that  pitiful  voice  reached  him.  Surely  that 
was  a  warning;  it  said,  "Cris,  turn  from  your  wicked 
doings;  reibrm;  don't  steal  any  more."  Xo;  perhaps 
v  11 


122  UNDER    THE  STORKS'    NEST. 

it  was  one  of  those  wicked  monks  trying  to  entice  him 
into  the  bog. 

The  piteous  cry  was  repeated,  falling  on  the  still 
night  air  with  dolorous  pleading,  touching  his  heart 
with  pity  irresistible. 

He  began  to  tremble;  he  must  fly  home,  away  from 
this  awful  enticing  sound,  before  destruction  should 
overtake  him. 

He  had  gone  but  a  few  steps,  when  some  formless 
object  rose  out  of  the  cloud  of  vapor  and  came  directly 
towards  him,  dashing  itself  against  his  limbs  and  cling- 
ing to  his  feet,  followed  by  a  heart-rending  wail  from 
the  moor. 

Cris's  limbs  lost  their  power  of  locomotion;  his 
courage  was  gone;  he  fell  to  the  ground  and  gave  him- 
self up  for  lost.  Everything  remained  quiet;  then, 
after  waiting  some  time  to  be  carried  away  and  buried 
alive  in  the  moor,  in  hopeless  terror  he  hazarded  a 
glance,  and  began  to  collect  his  faculties. 

The  hobgoblin  object  still  clung  to  his  legs  and  feet 
in  harmless  silence,  and  he  ventured  to  examine  it  more 
closely.  He  sat  up,  and,  after  staring  at  its  peaceful 
attitude,  he  made  one  heroic  clutch,  expecting  it  would 
vanish;  but  he  looked  again,  and  found  himself  hold- 
ing a  very  innocent  ghost  indeed. 

"Oh,  a  hat!  only  a  lady's  hat!"  he  exclaimed,  rising 
to  his  feet;  then,  like  a  flash,  the  incident  connected 
itself  with  the  cry  he  had  heard.  Some  person  was 
lost  on  the  moor,  perhaps  even  now  sinking,  dead  or 
dying,  into  the  horrible  marsh.  Forgetting  spirits, 
hobgoblins,  and  everything  but  the  fact  that  a  human 
being  might  be  perishing,  he  ran  to  the  moor,  shouting 


UNDER    THE  STORKS'    NEST.  123 

with  all  his  might,  "Is  any  one  there?  Where  are 
you?" 

He  shouted,  and  listened,  and  waited,  in  vain.  Fear- 
ing lest  he  had  come  too  late,  he  returned  to  his  cart 
uneasy  and  distressed,  carrying  the  hat,  and  grumbling, 
"Cris,  this  is  what  comes  of  doing  certain  things  that 
are  forbidden  in  this  world.  Traveling  in  evil  ways 
has  made  a  fool  and  a  coward  of  you.  For  shame,  Cris ! 
a  great  strong  lubber  like  you  to  lie  on  the  ground  in 
fright,  while  some  unhappy,  suffering  human  being  cries 
for  help !  Cris,  I'm  disgusted  with  you." 

Self-reproaching,  and  now  thoroughly  himself  again, 
he  took  up  his  march  for  home.  Coming  out  of  the 
wood,  he  was  seized  by  the  arm,  and  a  voice  said, 
pathetically, — 

"  Cris !  Cris !  my  old  friend  and  comrade,  stealing 
wood !  In  our  old  days  to  be  obliged  to  become  ene- 
mies, and  I  must  suffer  the  disgrace  of  putting  you  in 
the  kennel.  What  will  people  say,  tell  me  that,  when 
they  find  out  that  my  most  intimate  friend  is  a  thief? 
What  will  they  say  about  me,  hey?" 

"  Halloo,  Henry !  is  that  you  ?  Just  hold  on  a  bit, 
and  thank  God  there  is  no  occasion  to  make  an  arrest !" 

"And  why  not?  Where  are  your  poles?  What 
are  you  doing  here?  Come,  give  up  your  axe  and  stop 
lying !  I've  stood  guard  here  for  three  hours.  I  knew 
it  was  the  only  road  you  could  take.  Oh,  Cris  !  Cris ! 
you  villain!  you  thief !" 

"  Well,  all  I've  got  to  say  is  you've  had  your  watch- 
fulness for  your  pains !  How  do  you  know  I  went 
after  poles?" 

"  You  dare  tell  me  that !     Worse  and  worse !    How 


124  UNDER    THE  STORKS'    NEST. 

do  I  know  you  went  after  poles  ?  I'll  tell  you :  I  went 
to  your  house  about  eight  o'clock,  to  have  a  sociable 
half-hour ;  I  didn't  see  any  one  but  your  little  boy.  I 
asked  him  where  his  mother  was,  and  he  said,  '  At  the 
neighbor's.'  Then  I  asked  for  you,  and  the  innocent 
child  answered  that  you  had  taken  your  axe  and  gone 
to  get  poles  to  mend  the  fence.  There  now,  that's  how 
I  know  I" 

"  Yes,"  replied  Cris,  "  I  know  now,  too.     But  see 
here,  comrade ;  you  have  known  me  fourteen  years,  did 
I  ever  tell  you  a  lie  in  that  time  ?" 
"  I  never  caught  you  at  it,  anyhow." 
"  And  you  have  considered  me  an  honest  man  ?" 
"  As  a  friend  I  could  have  no  use  for  you  if  such 
had  not  been  the  case." 

"  Then  let  us  move  home ;  it's  beginning  to  rain,  and 
the  moon  is  under  the  clouds  for  the  night.  I  can 
explain  things  so  that  you  will  still  believe  I  am 
honest. 

"  You  see,  Henry,  the  other  night  the  storm  and 
wind  destroyed  my  hedge  back  of  the  house,  and  when 
I  began  fixing  it  up  again  I  found  I  needed  a  few  dozen 
more  poles.  And  Lena,  my  wife,  she  said,  ( Crischen, 
money  is  scarce,  and  we  are  expecting  an  increase  before 
long  that  will  use  up  every  extra  cent.  Now,  you  take 
your  cart  and  go  out  in  the  woods,  in  God's  name,  and 
get  a  few  of  the  miserable  tilings  that  grow  for  nobody's 
good  in  particular ;  they  are  as  plenty  as  the  leaves  on 
the  trees,  and  look  just  alike.  And  to-morrow  when 
your  fence  is  finished  none  will  be  the  wiser  for  it,  and 
no  hen  will  cackle  the  truth  abroad.'  You  might  know 
how  I  felt  about  it.  I  wanted  to  do  it,  and  I  didn't 


UNDER    THE  STORKS'    NEST. 

want  to ;  but  I  took  my  axe  and  cart  and  went.  It 
might  have  been  a  serious  business,  and  you  might 
have  been  obliged  to  lock  me  up  sure  enough,  if  the 
good  Lord  had  not  intended  to  the  contrary.  Just  as 
I  had  found  the  spot  for  my  poles,  I  had  such  a  fright 
that  I  ran  away  without  one  blow  or  one  pole." 

"  Pshaw !  that  is  a  story  for  the  like  of  me  to 
believe,  now,  isn't  it?"  said  Henry,  in  derision. 

"You  don't  believe  me?  Here,  convince  yourself ; 
look  at  my  axe  ;  it  is  newly  ground :  that  will  tell 
whether  it  has  been  used  since  it  left  the  grindstone." 

"  I  believe  you,  Cris,  old  fellow,  and  a  great  load 
is  taken  from  my  stomach  to  know  that  my  friend  is 
deserving  of  my  confidence.  If  you  had  gone  to  the 
kennel, — and  I  would  have  sent  you  there  if  you  had 
not  proved  yourself  innocent, — our  friendship  would 
have  been  at  an  end  ;  that,  Crischen,  is  what  hurt  me." 

"  You  are  a  good  soul,  Henry.  I  only  wonder  I  did 
not  remember  this  was  your  district.  I  should  not 
have  put  such  an  affront  on  you  as  to  steal  wood  that 
is  under  your  care.  But  these  women  !  these  women  ! 
They  drive  the  devil  in  and  sense  out ! 

"  Now  we  are  at  my  house,  you  can  just  stay  here 
all  night.  Lena  can  sleep  with  the  children,  and  you 
can  bed  with  me.  A  sup,  and  a  bit  of  sausage  and 
bread,  and  then  I  will  tell  you  what  happened  me 
while  we  are  enjoying  a  rest  and  a  bite." 

The  wife  fetched  the  desired  bottle,  bread,  and 
sausage,  and  between  the  bites  Cris  related  his  adven- 
ture, and  wound  up  with  a  sigh  of  relief,  saying, — 

"  It's  the  first  and  last  time,  I  swear  it,  that  I  will 
allow  myself  to  be  talked  into  doing  anything  that 

11* 


126  UNDER    THE  STORKS'   NEST. 

won't  bear  the  light  of  clay,  though  money  be  ever  so 
scarce  and  fifty  increases  be  expected." 

Henry  looked  very  thoughtful ;  then,  having  decided 
in  his  mind  what  had  best  be  done,  he  said, — 

"  Well,  Crischen,  there  is  only  one  thing  to  be  done : 
you  will  have  to  go  to  the  city  early  to-morrow  morn- 
ing and  report  this  matter,  and  take  the  hat  along.  It 
may  throw  some  light  on  that  awful  story  of  Judge 
Berndal's  daughter.  I  was  told  to-day  that  young  Von 
Kleist  was  found  murdered;  and  if  that  is  the  case,  the 
girl  certainly  hasn't  run  away  to  England  with  him." 

Cris  did  not  object  to  this,  but  he  hoped  the  authori- 
ties would  not  press  him  in  regard  to  the  business  that 
took  him  to  the  marsh  at  that  late  hour. 

After  breaking  their  fast  the  next  morning,  the  two 
men  started  with  the  hat  to  the  city.  Taking  the  road 
that  led  by  the  marsh,  Cris  led  Henry  to  the  spot 
where  he  had  met  with  his  fright,  and,  pointing  to  the 
moor,  he  said, — 

"  And  there  she  lies  !  Oh,  Henry,  see !  she  is  still 
alive !" 

Truly,  some  dark  object  was  lying  not  far  from  the 
dry  land,  and  motion  was  perceptible. 

They  called  to  it,  but  observed  only  a  faint  move- 
ment in  response.  They  then  consulted  in  reference 
to  a  safe  way  of  reaching  it,  and  hit  upon  an  impro- 
vised bridge  similar  to  that  once  thrown  across  this 
dangerous  place  in  rescuing  Captain  von  Kleist  from 
his  perilous  position. 

When  they  at  last  reached  the  object,  it  proved  to  be 
only  a  woman's  shawl  that  had  been  rolled  into  a  mass, 
leaving  a  corner  free  to  the  motions  of  the  wind,  de* 


UNDER    THE  STORKS'   NEST.  127 

ceiving  the  men  into  the  belief  that  the  object  was  living. 
The  treacherous  crust  of  earth  was  unbroken  beneath  it. 

Carefully  they  returned  with  the  shawl,  and  resumed 
their  journey  to  the  city,  Henry  feeling  the  importance 
of  adding  his  personal  testimony  to  the  discovery. 

Hat  and  shawl  were  recognized  by  the  parents  and 
relatives  as  the  property  of  the  missing  girl. 


CHAPTER   IX. 

THE  distressed  family  and  puzzled  detectives  con- 
sidered that  now  they  had  a  clue  to  the  fate  of  the 
unfortunate  girl. 

The  vicinity  of  the  marsh  was  scoured  for  miles 
around,  citizens  joining  heartily  in  the  search. 

Uncle  Thomas  and  Albert — the  latter  driven  to  the 
verge  of  insanity  with  the  alternate  hope  and  despair 
of  again  seeing  the  object  of  his  adoration, — were  un- 
tiring in  their  vigilance. 

There  was  certainly  something  remarkable  about 
the  circumstance  related  by  Cris,  and  it  gave  the  tor- 
tured lover  some  hope.  On  Monday,  October  13 
Martha  had  vanished  as  it  were  from  the  surface  of 
the  earth.  Cris  testified  that  on  the  evening  of  October 
18,  after  a  lapse  of  six  days,  he  had  heard  those  heart- 
rending cries.  It  was  impossible  to  believe  she  cou'd 
survive  the  horror  and  suffocating  atmosphere  of  a  fall 
into  the  marsh  that  length  of  time,  and,  connecting  the 
cries  with  the  finding  of  the  hat  and  shawl  at  the  ex- 


128  UNDER    THE  STORKS'    NEST. 

piration  of  so  many  days  and  nights,  a  little  glim- 
mering of  hope  whispered  that  she  might  not  have 
perished  so  horribly,  and  perchance  was_  still  among 
the  living. 

With  renewed  courage  the  minutest  trifles  were 
observed,  and  among  the  papers  scattered  over  and 
trampled  into  the  ground  where  the  gypsy-camp  had 
been,  a  leaf  from  a  sketch-book  was  found. 

The  faint  outlines  of  some  drawing,  that  had  been 
partly  erased  by  the  rain  and  moisture  of  the  ground, 
were  discernible  on  one  side.  On  the  other  side,  who 
can  describe  the  feelings  that  racked  the  hearts  of  lover 
and  relatives  as  a  keen  scrutiny  was  enabled  to  glean 
from  the  almost  obliterated,  weather-blotted  characters 
the  words  traced  by  Martha's  hand  ? 

.  .  .  "16  Oct.  .  .  .  help  me!  I  ...  able  situation 
.  .  .  st  perish  .  .  .  moor  .  .  . 

"MARTHA  BERNDAL." 

There  was  not  one  of  all  that  sympathizing  party 
of  strangers  or  friends  who  witnessed  the  inexpressible 
agony  of  the  parents,  the  anguish  of  Albert,  who  would 
not  gladly  have  given  a  year  of  life,  had  it  availed,  to 
unravel  the  mystery  that  seemed  to  grow  darker  with 
each  new  discovery. 

Farmers,  peasants,  and  citizens,  for  miles  in  all  direc- 
tions, joined  the  search  by  evening,  and  with  torches 
and  lanterns  the  woods  and  moor  were  hunted  over 
again  and  again.  Nothing  further  was  found. 

Uncle  Thomas,  recollecting  about  the  sudden  disap- 
pearance of  the  pretty  gypsy-girl  the  day  she  warned 
Martha  under  the  shadow  of  the  ruined  old  bell-tower, 


UNDER    THE  STORKS'   NEST.  129 

suggested  a  possible  entrance ;  but,  after  repeated  as- 
surances from  many  others  who  had  sought  vainly,  and 
failing  himself,  he  was  convinced  no  human  being  could 
surmount  the  rubbish  or  gain  the  interior. 
,  As  day  after  day  passed,  and  every  human  exertion 
was  fruitless,  the  search  was  at  last  abandoned.  Martha 
must  have  lost  her  life  in  the  moor.  There  was,  there 
could  be,  no  other  reasonable  conjecture,  and  that  was 
generally  accepted  in  regard  to  the  lost  girl. 

It  was  wonderful  to  note  the  changing  opinion  of 
people,  and  the  remarkable  adaptability  of  mind  to 
circumstance.  When  the  large  and  small  public  had 
decided  beyond  peradventure  that  Miss  Martha  Bern- 
dal  was  dead, — had  died  a  shocking  but  respectable 
death, — their  sympathy  with  her  parents  was  as  earnest 
as  their  memory  was  short, — that  is  to  say,  defective. 

It  would  have  been  difficult  to  find  the  individual 
who  had  ever  hinted,  in  the  remotest  way  even,  that  a 
daughter  of  Judge  Berndal  was  capable  of  indulging 
in  a  melancholy  love-affair,  much  less  stooping  to  an 
elopement. 

"  Ah,  the  wicked  world !  the  unjust  world  !"  cried 
Mrs.  Schneider,  wiping  away  the  tears.  "  I  always  said 
it  was  strange  something  did  not  happen  that  family. 
They  were  so  good  to  the  poor;  always  paid  their  bills 
promptly ;  them's  the  folks  that  suffer  most  in  this  evil 
world.  Poor,  dear  young  lady  !" 

"  Yes,  that  is  only  too  true,"  said  Mrs.  Shoemaker, 
sadly  meditative.  "  How  any  mean-spirited  person 
could  believe  that  the  pure,  gentle-hearted  girl  could 
run  away  with  Captain  von  Kleist,  or  any  other  man, 
beats  me ;  and  it's  little  they  knew  her  strict,  honorable 


130  UNDER    THE  STORKS'   NEST. 

parents,  or  the  tender-hearted  girl  herself:  I  always 
said  she  was  too  good  for  this  world  !" 

While  the  least  mistrust  lingered  in  regard  to  the 
disappearance  of  Martha,  all  well-regulated  families, 
having  the  necessary  amount  of  respect  for  their  own 
reputation  and  honor,  remained  aloof  from  the  house 
of  misfortune;  their  commiseration  extending,  how- 
ever, to  cook  or  servant  for  inquisitive  information  con- 
nected with  the  distressed  family. 

Now,  the  extreme  fellowship  of  sorrow  reached  such 
an  enormous  limit  that  it  literally  overflowed.  From 
morn  till  eve  the  door  was  besieged  by  tender-hearted 
callers,  who  came  to  offer  heartfelt  condolences,  and 
mingle  their  burning  tears  of  friendship  with  those  of 
the  afflicted  ones,  until  the  ringing  sympathy  became  a 
source  of  annoyance,  and  the  bell  had  to  be  muffled, 
and  the  mourning  visitors  retraced  their  tardy  steps. 

Again  the  mother  sat  beside  her  boy,  as  years  agone 
she  had  watched  his  infant  breathing,  between  hope 
and  fear.  No  smile  now  lights  his  countenance,  as  then 
suddenly  cheered  her  so  lately  bereaved  mother-heart. 
To-day  she  mourns  again  more  bitterly  her  lovely, 
loving  daughter. 

There  is  a  season  in  every  life  when  our  sorrows  vent 
themselves  in  noisy  lamentations ;  pain  and  grief  seem 
to  master  all  our  faculties ;  we  storm  against  humanity 
and  God ;  feel  as  if  life  was  wrecked  eternally ;  won- 
der how  the  sun  can  shine,  or  the  stars  dare  twinkle, 
when  our  sky  is  dark  and  lowering. 

The  enthusiasm  of  youth  and  health  receives  joy  and 
sorrow  with  a  like  measure;  but  at  this  season  we  begin 
to  comprehend  that  spring  and  sunshine  are  followed 


UNDER    THE  STORKS'   NEST. 

by  storms  and  icy  winter ;  we  realize  likewise  that  ex- 
perience is  a  teacher  we  cannot  escape. 

But  the  elasticity  of  youth  is  also  ours.  The  violence 
of  the  overtasked  heart  rebounds  with  salubrious  vigor. 
The  youth  raves  in  distracted  torment  for  the  loss  of  a 
loved  object, — an  unfaithful  love,  perhaps,  that  at  one 
blow  destroys  the  sweetest  dreams  of  life.  He  thinks 
the  earth  contains  no  other  joy  for  him ;  his  hope  and 
ambition  are  gone  :  he  wants  to  die !  But  wait, — he  is 
young,  and  has  time  to  forget. 

Oh,  the  glory  of  youth ! 

The  youth  forgets  his  loved  one ;  the  maiden  forgets 
her  first  love ;  the  young  husband  can  forget  his  wife, 
and  the  young  widow  her  husband.  They  can  all  bury 
their  griefs  in  -the  long  years  that  replace  the  lost 
treasures;  they  have  hope  and  a  future,  for  they  are 
young. 

There  is  no  healing  balm  of  forgetfulness  for  the  old ; 
when  the  border-life  of  youth  is  past,  we  stand  tired 
with  our  earlier  combat ;  hardened  and  braced ;  often 
meeting  the  severest  pain  and  shock  with  resignation 
and  composure,  to  all  outward  seeming,  when  the 
tongue  is  silent  and  the  tear  repressed  ere  it  overleaps 
the  eyelash.  We  do  not  rebel  or  murmur,  storm  or 
lament;  voiceless  our  grief  travels  on  to  death,  tor- 
turing the  heart  like  the  fabled  vultures  gnawing  at 
the  chained  Prometheus ;  unceasing  and  unending,  the 
sorrow  remains  our  companion  the  rest  of  our  few 
years,  for  we  cannot  forget.  What  fate  takes  from  us 
it  cannot  replace  ;  age  has  no  future,  and  it  gazes  ever 
into  the  past — or  towards  eternity  ! 

Uncomplaining,  tearless,   the   unhappy  mother  fol- 


132  UNDER    THE  STORKS'    NEST. 

lowed  her  accustomed  routine  of  duties,  or  sat  beside 
the  unconscious  Bernhard.  Only  her  Creator  knew  the 
measureless  suffering  to  which  her  heart  was  subjected 
when  he  was  brought  home,  more  dead  than  alive, 
while  her  soul  was  strained  to  its  uttermost  with  the 
uncertainty  of  Martha's  fate. 

And  yet  the  strong  man,  Judge  Berndal,  was  com- 
pletely broken  down,  and  lay  for  hours  prostrated  and 
helpless;  while  the  frail,  weak  woman  remained  firm; 
as  long  as  her  treasures  needed  her,  morning,  noon, 
and  night  she  was  beside  them. 

Another  week  went  by.  Bernhard  was  no  better, 
and  little  hope  of  his  recovery  was  entertained.  His 
pale  mother  rarely  left  his  side;  tearless  and  unob- 
servant of  everything  but  his  need,  she  sat  for  hours 
without  seeming  to  hear  or  see  any  one.  Occasionally 
she  would  pass  her  hand  over  her  dark,  hollow  eyes, 
as  if  trying  to  shut  out  some  memory,  or  to  remem- 
ber where  she  was.  Uncle  Thomas  was  nearly  wild 
with  anxiety  for  her,  but  she  only  begged  to  be  per- 
mitted to  stay  with  Bernhard  when  they  tried  to  make 
her  rest  or  sleep. 

Matilda,  as  soon  as  the  news  of  the  fearful  calamity 
at  home  reached  her,  hastened  to  her  mother ;  and  just 
as  Judge  Berndal  was  leaving  his  door  one  morning, 
the  coach  drew  up,  and  a  voice  tremulous  with  emo- 
tion cried,  "  Father !  dear,  dear  father !"  He  turned 
to  catch  the  form  of  his  daughter  as  she  sprang  with 
outstretched  arms  out  of  the  coach,  but  before  he 
reached  her  she  had  fallen,  her  dress  catching  on  the 
door  as  she  made  the  hasty  leap,  and  she  was  flung 
with  terrible  force  against  the  stepping-stone. 


UNDER    THE  STORKS'    NEST.  133 

Senseless  she  was  carried  into  the  house.  The  fall 
resulted  in  some  severe  internal  injuries,  followed  by 
dangerous  hemorrhages,  and  it  was  days  before  she  was 
considered  out  of  danger.  This  last  shock  was  too 
much  even  for  that  long-suffering  mother-heart.  At 
last  her  weary  mind  found  oblivion  in  the  delirium  of 
brain-fever. 

The  house  of  peace  and  joy  had  become  a  house  of 
sorrow  and  suffering.  Judge  Berndal  was  but  the 
shadow  of  himself.  Albert  nobly  strove  to  conquer 
his  own  trouble  sufficiently  to  be.  useful  to  his  dear, 
afflicted  friends.  Uncle  Thomas  sat  in  the  house  like  a 
prostrated  maniac,  gazing  helplessly  at  his  wooden  leg. 

Thus  care-bowed,  and  without  one  ray  of  hope,  Judge 
Berndal  wandered  abroad  for  a  little  while,  to  renew  his 
faith  and  trust  in  God's  mercy  in  the  free  air,  where  all 
nature  cried  aloud, — 

"Old  man,  be  not  discouraged;  rise  up.  The  eye  of 
the  Father  is  over  all.  He  doeth  all  things  well." 

As  if  the  leaves  and  birds  had  whispered  consolation, 
he  returned  home  cheered  and  refreshed. 

The  sick  were  pronounced  out  of  danger.  Albert 
had  business  that  required  his  attendance  in  a  neigh- 
boring city,  and  Uncle  Thomas  was  to  accompany  him. 
When  the  carriage  stood  at  the  door  and  they  were 
about  to  take  their'  leave,  Uncle  Thomas  suddenly 
changed  his  mind. 

"By  the  Lord  Harry!"  he  exclaimed,  with  a  suspi- 
cious moisture  in  his  eyes,  and  blowing  his  nose  with  a 
stentorian  blast,  "Nanta,  I'll  be  eternally  burnt  if  I'm 
going  to  be  brute  enough  to  forsake  you!  AVhat!  go 
and  leave  you  alone  in  your  trouble?  By  thunder!  I 

12 


134  UNDER    THE  STORKS'   NEST. 

hope  the  devil  will  get  his  fill  of  me  if  I  do !  Good- 
by,  Albert.  God  be  with  you !  I  remain."  Then, 
taking  the  judge  by  the  arm,  he  said,  as  he  watched  the 
carriage  roll  away,  "I  guess  that  boy  is  big  enough  to 
take  care  of  himself;  but  you,  Nanta, — I  cannot  leave 
this  house  until  I  see  that  face  in  smiles  again ;  and 
your  wife,  bless  her!  I  cannot  live  unless  I  know 
momentarily  of  her  improvement;  I'd  rather  go  and 
hang  myself  than  suffer  the  tortures  of  uncertainty." 

Judge  Berndal  pressed  his  hand  in  silence,  deeply 
touched  by  the  affection  of  the  tender-hearted,  well- 
meaning  old  man. 

In  the  course  of  a  few  months  the  invalids  were 
sufficiently  convalescent  to  restore  a  spirit  of  quiet 
harmony  to  the  household ;  the  resignation  to  the  in- 
evitable that  comes  with  time  had  brought  peace,  if  not 
forgetfulness. 

Bernhard  was  gaining  strength;  but  before  him  was 
the  trial  and  investigation  connected  with  the  duel  and 
the  death  of  Lieutenant  von  Brieloff. 

His  parents  trembled  for  the  result.  He  was  sanguine, 
and  trusted  the  provocation — a  willful  quarrel  thrust 
upon  him — would  greatly  tend  to  moderate  any  judg- 
ment brought  by  a  just  judge  oran  honest  jury  in  the  case. 

Months  passed  before  Matilda  had  the  heart  to  open 
the  piano.  Judge  Berndal  and  Uncle  Thomas  were 
passionately  fond  of  music,  and  were  the  first  to  suggest  it. 

But  the  first  notes  brought  the  last  happy  evening  to 
mind  with  such  keenness  that  even  Uncle  Thomas  .suc- 
cumbed to  the  general  sobbing.  Oh,  he  would  never 
hear  the  voice  of  his  little  favorite  again,  the  ringing 
laughter  of  his  spirited  pet,  who  would  soon  have  been 


UNDER    THE  STORKS'   NEST.  135 

his  daughter,  whose  children  would  have  cheered  his 
declining  years!  Uncle  Thomas  was  indeed  changed; 
the  expressive  eloquence  of  his  rude  address  was  toned 
to  suit  the  invalids,  and  his  profanity  was  checked  by 
the  restraint  and  guard  he  placed  over  his  garrulity. 
Poor  fellow!  it  was  a  sore  trial  to  overcome  the  habit; 
but,  in  spite  of  his  resolves  and  watchfulness,  habit  was 
the  victor  at  every  sentence. 


CHAPTEE  X. 

IT  was  a  dreary  winter  evening;  the  ground  was 
covered  with  snow,  and  the  flakes  were  falling  in  close 
and  irregular  disorder,  completely  filling  the  air  in  their 
noiseless  rioting. 

In  the  gable  house  the  family  were  collected  in  the 
sitting-room,  and  an  unaccountable  silence  had  pre- 
vailed with  the  approach  of  dusk,  all  seemingly  occu- 
pied with  their  own  impressions  while  watching  the 
snowy  element  without. 

Mrs.  Berndal  at  last  broke  the  quiet  by  saying,  "Did 
it  ever  occur  to  you  that  the  human  heart  is  never  more 
inclined  to  the  silence  of  self-communion  than  when 
the  snow  is  falling,  as  it  is  now?" 

Bernhard  stretched  himself,  and,  with  an  indolent 
yawn,  replied,  with  jesting  gravity,  "True,  mother!  I 
believe  the  presaging  soul  involuntarily  prospects  the 
endless  slush  to  follow;  thinks  of  damp  feet,  colds, 
toothaches,  flowing  noses,  etc.,  etc.,  and  wonders  where 


136  UNDER    THE  STORKS'    NEST. 

overshoes,  rubber  boots,  and  such  disagreeable  necessi- 
ties may  possibly  be." 

"That  is  not  the  answer,  brother  mine,"  said  Matilda: 
"you  should  have  added  something  of  greater  impor- 
tance to  account  for  a  mute  tongue.  The  spirit  is  prob- 
ably wandering  about  the  domestic  circle  deliberating 
on  the  quantity  of  fuel  and  flannel  required  to  meet  the 
demands  of  the  frost-king." 

"Spoken  like  a  provident  housewife,  whose  soul 
dabbles  in  flannel." 

"Spoken  like  a  medicus,  whose  spirit  scents  the 
coming  sneeze,". retorted  Matilda,  laughing. 

Judge  Berndal  interrupted  the  playful  wrangling : 
"  Mother  is  right.  I  have  often  found  myself  in  sym- 
pathy with  such  weather,  without  ever  having  accounted 
for,  or  been  particularly  observant  of,  my  own  taciturn 
mood.  That  we  are  influenced  by  the  atmospheric 
silence  is  evidenced  right  here :  five  persons,  including 
two  of  the  talkative  sex,  and  Uncle  Thomas,  and  an 
unbroken  silence  has  reigned  for  half  an  hour !  I 
shall  not  endeavor  to  explain  such  a  phenomenon,  but 
I  think  the  closely-packed  air,  the  obscured  horizon, 
clothing  the  falling  twilight  with  its  dense  gray  veil, 
depresses  us  with  a  spiritual  heaviness,  over  which  the 
physical  nature  stands  guard  for  the  time  being,  ob- 
stinate and  unspeaking.'' 

"  To  me  the  impression  is  different  from  that,"  said 
Mrs.  Berndal.  "  I  am  at  times  unable  to  drive  away 
the  gnome-like  spirit  that  haunts  me  my  mind  is 
dwarfed  by  a  burden  of  mystery,  suggested  by  the 
noiseless  warring  of  the  little  white  flakes.  There  is 
something  so  singularly  ghostly  in  the  spreading  mantle 


UNDER    THE  STORKS'   NEST.  137 

that  covers  the  earth,  trees,  rocks,  fields,  houses;  all  is 
cloaked  in  white;  even  color  is  entirely  lost;  large 
and  small  objects  lose  their  form,  and  the  odd  trans- 
formation takes  place  in  such  a  totally  noiseless  way 
that  I  cannot  think  of  anything  but  death  and  winding- 
sheets." 

"  But,  Lottie,  does  not  nature  accomplish  everything 
in  silence?  Can  you  hear  the  budding  of  the  trees  or 
the  unfolding  of  the  blossoms?" 

"  No ;  but  I  can  see  the  grass  germinate  with  its 
beautiful  green,  the  brown  bud  expand  into  the  gay- 
colored  flower.  It  is  life  !  It  gives  me  pleasure,  and 
elevates  my  spirit ;  it  neither  frightens  nor  depresses 
me,  any  more  than  do  the  other  manifestations  of 
nature.  I  can  hear  the  voice  of  the  storm ;  I  can  see 
it  bend  the  trees,  scatter  the  leaves,  and  chase  the 
dust;  I  can  see  the  lightnings  flash,  hear  the  thunder 
roll  until  the  earth  quivers  and  trembles.  Is  it  not 
life?  When  the  hail  rattles  and  breaks  its  noisy  way 
to  the  ground,  is  it  not  life  ?  I  can  see  the  rain  pour 
down,  the  water  congeal,  the  icicles  in  their  pendent 
beauty  glisten  and  fall  clattering  against  the  window- 
pane.  Everything  speaks  of  life  and  change ;  we 
incline  to  sociability  and  companionship.  But  the 
mournful  stillness  of  the  snow  speaks  to  me  of  death, 
the  creeping,  soundless,  untiring,  all-devouring  monster, 
death  !" 

"  Your  pardon,  my  dear  lady !"  exclaimed  Uncle 
Thomas,  ceasing  the  tattoo  on  his  pedal  stump  when  he 
noticed  that  the  conversation  was  taking  a  gloomy 
turn;  "your  pardon,  but  I  don't  see  anything  of  the 
kind  !  For  my  part,  I  have  been  so  happily  constituted 

E*  12* 


138  UNDER    THE  STORKS'    NEST. 

that  a  susceptible  imagination  or  sentimental  dreaming 
does  not  bother  me.  I  am  by  nature  a  very  prosaic 
fellow.  My  silence  was  not  by  reason  of  any  particular 
spirit's  oppression.  First,  I  had  nothing  very  clever 

to  say ;  secondly,  I  observed  that  my  dam no, 

my  Go oh,  the  devil !  that  damned  gout  was 

announcing  its  infer that  is,  its  blessed  presence 

in  the  only  decent  leg  I've  got,  and  I  was  thinking 

how  he heavenly  it  would  be  if  I  could  transfer 

the  shooting  pains  into  that  stick  of  wood ;  how  I 
would  nurse  it,  wrap  it  in  cat-fur,  and  put  it  to  bed 

with  resignation  and  delight  even.  But  the  blast 

blessed  stump  possesses  the  most  robust  health,  and  is 
utterly  unmindful  of  its  suffering  colleague,  or  is  not 
inclined  to  relieve  it  at  all, — the  thankless  brute ! 
Thirdly,  I  am  always  charmed  with  a  snow-storm.  I 
revel  in  anticipation  of  the  glorious  snow-balling  and 
snow-tumbling  we  shall  have  to-morrow !  And  such 
sleighing  as  we  shall  have  !  Ah,  madam,  shall  I  have  the 
honor  of  your  company  to-morrow  ?  I  shall  go  straight 
home  and  see  that  everything  is  in  order,  and  I  prom- 
ise the  tenderest  care  and  the  best  behavior.  Yes?" 

"  But,  dear  Uncle  Thomas,  you  forget  I  am  still  on 
the  invalid  list.  Although  it  would  give  me  the  great- 
est pleasure  to  accept  your  invitation,  knowing  from 
experience  what  a  charming  and  attentive  cavalier  you 
are, — your  gallantry  is  beyond  question,  dear  sir, — 
prudence  dictates  care,  and  regretfully  declines  your 
tempting  sleigh-ride.'' 

"  Distressing  objections — that  is  to  say — I  meant — 
distressing  forgetfulness  on  my  part.  But  never  mind, 
we  will  make  up  for  it  next  summer." 


UNDER    THE  STORKS'    NEST.  139 

Everybody  laughed,  and  Uncle  Thomas  stared 
amazed  at  the  judge  as  he  asked, — 

"  What !  go  sleighing  in  summer  ?" 

"  Certainly/'  replied  Uncle  Thomas,  quietly :  "  it 
would  be  an  excellent  and  beneficial  trip  for  the  ladies. 
In  LapJand  or  Greenland  we  can  sleigh-ride  to  our 
hearts'  content,  and  have  the  choice  of  dogs  or  reindeer 
to  carry  us  over  the  crisp  snow." 

The  ludicrous  suggestion  was  received  with  universal 
merriment.  The  joke  was  carried  out ;  costumes,  living, 
and  mode  of  entertainment  were  discussed ;  and  Uncle 
Thomas  had  the  satisfaction  of  knowing  his  well-timed 
change  in  the  conversation  had  resulted  in  a  social, 
pleasant  evening,  and  had  also  proved  that  a  "  winding- 
sheet  of  snow"  was  not  necessarily  suggestive  of  dreary 
silence,  death,  or  soul-depression,  if  one  had  a  mind  to 
amuse  or  be  amused. 

So  the  winter  passed,  and  the  fatal  accident  of  the 
previous  year  could  be  referred  to  in  the  family  circle 
without  a  keen  renewal  of  the  first  intolerable  horror ; 
the  dear  absent  member  was  now  spoken  of  as  one  be- 
yond recall ;  the  violence  of  grief  was  quenched  by  the 
tempered  sorrow  for  a  buried  loved  one. 

Matilda  and  her  mother,  accompanied  by  Uncle 
Thomas,  were  about  to  depart  on  an  extended  tour 
abroad  for  a  change  of  climate  and  scene. 

Judge  Berndal  and  Bernhard  remained  to  await  the 
decision  of  the  court,  the  father  not  sharing  his  son's 
confident  expectations  regarding  his  acquittal. 

The  day  after  Bernhard's  mother  and  sister  left  home, 
judgment  was  passed  on  all  the  participants  in  the  un- 
fortunate duel. 


140  UNDER    THE  STORKS'   NEST. 

Bernhard  was  sentenced  to  ten,  and  each  of  the 
seconds  to  two,  years'  close  confinement. 

It  was  a  severe  and  unexpected  >  sentence.  Con- 
siderable surprise  and  indignation  were  expressed  ; 
petitions  from  influential  signers  were  sent  to  the 
sovereign,  praying  mitigation  in  Bernhard's  case  from 
that  high  source,  but  without  avail. 

It  was  a  terrible  blow  to  Bernhard,  and  a  sadder  one 
to  his  father.  Ten  years  taken  from  the  life  of  his 
talented  boy,  whose  future  was  so  promising ;  his  best 
years  and  energies  mouldering  in  the  walls  of  a  prison  ; 
a  useful  and  profitable  existence  interrupted  and 
crushed !  Ten  years  of  prison-life  is  ten  years  of 
living  death. 

The  duel  is  a  wicked,  barbarous  custom,  and  should 
be  punished  with  the  extremity  of  the  law.  An  indi- 
vidual has  no  right  to  rob  another  of  health,  limb,  or 
life,  and  a  State  is  bound  to  protect  its  people  regard- 
less of  position.  So  far  as  the  law  and  statutes  are 
concerned,  individuals  are  equal. 

The  judge  has  no  right  to  hold  different  opinions,  or 
dispense  various  judgment,  on  one  and  the  same  sub- 
ject, offensive  to  God  and  condemned  by  the  laws  of 
justice.  There  certainly  must  be  an  unsound  condition 
of  society  when  a  state,  or  its  civil  head,  proclaims  pub- 
licly, "  You  are  my  constituency,  and  my  laws  recog- 
nize only  equal  justice  to  high  or  low  degree !"  while 
privately  the  " powers  that  be"  may  say  with  impu- 
nity, "But  you  are  my  best  beloved,  and  if  any  dare 
annoy  my  favorites,  take  off  their  heads  !  kick  the  dogs 
out !  That  is  the  way  to  protect — ourselves  !  Main- 
tain your  authority !  preserve  and  defend  your  rank  !" 


UNDER    THE  STORKS'    NEST.  141 

Lies  the  honor  or  the  disgrace  of  an  act  in  the  cut 
or  quality  of  your  broadcloth,  or  in  the  motives  that 
influence  the  heart  ? 

Can  you  forbid  one  man  and  indulge  the  other? — 
punish  with  the  extreme  power  of  the  law  a  criminal 
act  in  the  person  of  one  individual,  and  lovingly  con- 
trive to  hold  the  palm  of  the  hand  over  your  nose  and 
witness  the  same  deed  by  another, — but  through  the 
interstices  of  the  fingers? 

Dueling  will  remain  a  blot  on  any  country  where 
the  outrageous  custom  is  winked  at  in  any  instance. 

Murder  is  murder,  and  dueling  is  premeditated  mur- 
der,— an  inhuman  craving  for  the  blood  of  another; 
that  is  considered  "wiping  out"  insulted  honor.  Can 
any  well-balanced,  reasoning  human  being  believe  it 
possible  ? 

The  sentence  was  indeed  severe,  when  Judge  Bern- 
dal  and  his  friends  called  to  mind  the  case  of  a  noto- 
rious rake  and  ruffian,  \vearing  also  the  royal  epaulets, 
who  had  grossly  misused  the  name  of  an  honorable 
young  lady,  and,  being  called  to  account  for  it,  had  shot 
his  opponent  through  the  heart ;  he  was  tried,  found 
guilty,  and  sentenced  to  imprisonment  for  one  year ! 
The  public  was  greatly  dissatisfied,  because  the  young 
officer  was  universally  condemned  for  his  bad  character 
and  his  utter  disregard  of  decency. 

Blind  Justice  had  hit  the  wrong  game  in  this  in- 
stance, however.  The  royal  mercy  was  extended  to  the 
"gentle-blooded"  youth.  The  sentence  was  corrected. 
The  fatherland  could  not  spare  the  young  hero.  At 
the  expiration  of  three  months  she  had  her  armed 
champion  again,  with  "sword  and  pistols  by  his  side," 


142  UNDER    THE  STORKS'    NEST. 

frightening  every  modest  girl  he  met,  and  staring  even 
the  boldest  out  of  countenance,  while  marching  bravely 
along  the  peaceful  streets  of  his  country,  with  still 
greater  importance  than  formerly.  And  why  should 
he  not  feel  exalted  ?  His  beloved  fatherland  had  given 
indisputable  evidence  of  the  value  of  his  services,  or 
it  would  have  granted  him  at  least  one  little  year  of 
rest  and  retirement,  if  only  for  the  benefit  of  his  moral 
and  religious  improvement.  However,  he  was  high  in 
the  royal  favor.  So  was  his  sister, — a  very  beautiful 
woman ! 

Bernhard  hoped  that  Albert  would  be  sent  to  the 
same  fortress  as  himself,  but  that  hope  was  not  real- 
ized. The  seconds  were  assigned  to  quarters  in  the 
city.  Bernhard's  future  prison  abode  was  near  the 
frontier. 

It  is  the  lovely  month  of  May.  Spring  with  her 
enticing  beauties  bids  humanity  forsake  the  winter 
gloom  of  the  house  and  come  abroad  to  enjoy  the 
glorious  harmony  of  nature. 

Come  out,  come  out !  O  dormant  soul !  The  sweet, 
fresh  spring  invites  thee.  Laughing,  rippling,  dancing, 
joyous  Nature  will  give  thee  cheer  and  sunshine ! 

The  heart  answers  with  wild  longing.  The  soul 
would  burst  its  narrow  cell,  and  fly  from  its  material 
oppressions  away  beyond  the  white  cloud-flakes  flitting 
so  lightly  along  the  blue  sky. 

Slowly  the  tired  h">  ses,  drawing:  a  heavv  traveling- 

•/  O  t>  O 

coach  through  the  valley  road,  were  urged  onward. 

The  windows  of  the  coach  were  open.  A  voice  from 
within  hailed  the  driver: 


UNDER    THE  STORKS'   NEST.  143 

"  How  far  is  it  to  the  city?" 

"  One  mile,  sir ;  when  we  are  at  the  top  of  the  next 
hill  we  can  see  it." 

"Very  well,  my  friend  ;  I  will  alight,  aud  you  can 
precede  me  to  the  tavern,  and  order  dinner  and  a  room ; 
I  will  follow  slowly." 

The  driver  opened  the  door  for  his  passenger; 
then,  guiding  his  team  carefully  up  the  hill,  he  mut- 
tered, "Queer  customer,  to  hire  a  coach  to  ride,  aud  then 
walk  half  the  time.  Well,  me  'n'  the  nags  don't  object. 
He's  good  treat,  anyhow;  but  in  the  eight  days  he's 
been  traveling  he's  done  mighty  little  gabbing.  Must 
be  uneasy  in  mind.  Guess  he's  unlucky  in  love.  De- 
ceitful female  critter,  or  something.  Well,  it's  not  my 
funeral." 

Bernhard  Berndal  paused  on  the  beautiful  elevation 
overlooking  valley  and  town,  the  prison  where  he  was 
destined  to  end  this  journey.  Spreading  wide  his  arms, 
as  if  to  embrace  the  whole  world,  he  exclaimed, — 

"  Oh,  thou  wonderful,  wonderful  world  !  Air,  light, 
beauty,  freedom, — all,  all  will  soon  be  shut  out  from 
me !  And  oh,  life  is  not  life  without  freedom,  and  the 
world  is  so  beautiful !  Ten  years  caged ! — ten  long 
years !  What  will  I  be  when  those  gates  are  opened 
after  ten  years  in  that  gloomy  tomb  ?  A  man  in  the 
prime  of  his  years, — a  broken-spirited  wretch,  with  a 
coffined  soul !  Oh,  my  God  !  and  the  world  is  so 
beautiful,  and  life  offers  me  so  much ! 

"Away,  miserable  thoughts!  you  drive  me  to  in-* 
sanity!  Am  I  not  a  man?  Shall  I  whine  and  fret? 
To  what  end  ?  I  must  bear  my  fate !  My  spirit  shall 
not  bend  or  tremble ;  my  proud  heart  shall  not  break  ! 


144  UNDER    THE  STORKS'   NEST. 

Alas,  poor,  weak  heart ! — it  does  not  break  so  easily ; 
do  I  riot  know  that  well  ?" 

As  if  scornfully  casting  off  the  haunting  demons,  he 
hastened  towards  the  city  with  a  firm  step  and  pale, 
determined  face. 


CHAPTER    XL 

THE  following  morning,  as  Bernhard  approached 
the  door  of  the  residence  of  the  commander  of  the  for- 
tress where,  according  to  orders,  he  had  to  report  him- 
self under  arrest,  a  lady  came  out,  and  he  stepped  aside 
to  permit  her  to  pass.  She  hastily  pushed  back  the 
veil  that  covered  her  face,  and,  extending  both  hands 
with  a  cry  of  joy,  exclaimed, — 

"  Bernhard  !  Doctor  Berndal !  to  what  happy  acci- 
dent am  I  indebted  for  the  pleasure  of  seeing  you 
again  ?" 

The  young  man  had  need  of  all  his  self-control  to 
conquer  the  feeling  so  suddenly  called  to  life  in  hear- 
ing that  sweet,  ringing,  musical  voice, — the  voice  he 
had  never  expected  to  hear  again  on  earth,  least  of  all 
here.  It  was  Augusta  standing  there,  holding  his  hands 
and  speaking  to  him. 

"You  here,  Augusta!"  Then,  recovering  himself,  he 
said,  quietly,  "  I  assure  you,  my  dear  lady,  accident  has 
nothing  whatever  to  do  with  my  presence  at  this  place, 
— at  all  events,  no  happy  accident." 

"I  do  not  understand  you;  but,  since  you  seem  in- 
clined to  omit  'accident'  in  the  proposition,  the  happi- 


UNDER    THE  STORKS'   NEST.  145 

ness  of  seeing  you  remains  mine.  You  were  calling  on 
us?  Come,  and  let  me  take  you  direct  to  my  husband; 
he  will  be  charmed  to  see  you  again." 

He  entered  the  house,  then,  turning  to  her  with  a 
bow,  he  said,  "You  will  excuse  me;  but  I  have  impor- 
tant business  with  the  commandant." 

"Step  into  the  parlor;  my  husband  will  be  down 
shortly." 

Turning  to  a  servant,  she  directed  him  to  inform  the 
governor  that  a  visitor  had  called  to  see  him. 

"Is  your  husband  the  governor  in  command?" 

"Why,  yes!  Were  you  not  aware  of  that,  and  yet 
came  such  a  long  journey  to  see  him  on  business? 
True,  we  have  been  stationed  at  this  place  only  a  week. 
Do  be  seated,  doctor;  you  look  ill." 

"I  have  been  ill  for  a  long  while;  but  am  quite 
recovered,  however." 

"Why  are  you  so — so  unlike  yourself,  Bernhard? 
Tell  me,  how  are  your  parents,  Matilda,  Albert,  dear 
little  Martha,  and  Uncle  Thomas?  Since  my  mother's 
death  I  hear  so  seldom  from  home." 

Before  he  could  reply,  the  commandant  made  his 
appearance, — a  tall,  lean  man,  with  silver-gray  hair 
cropped  close,  an  honest,  firm  countenance,  yet  speak- 
ing benevolence  and  kindness,  mingled  with  resolution 
and  dignity,  his  military  bearing  commanding  respect 
without  assumption.  The  breast  of  his  coat  was  dec- 
orated with  the  iron  cross  and  other  honors. 

He  advanced  to  his  visitor  with  friendly  greeting,  as 
his  face  lighted  up  with  pleased  recognition. 

"My  dear  Berndal!  glad  to  see  you.     This  is  really 
an  unexpected  pleasure." 
o  18 


146  UNDER    THE  STORKS'   NEST. 

"  Scarcely  unexpected,  general,  since  I  am  ordered 
to  report  to  you  to-day  as  your  prisoner,  under  sentence 
for  ten  years." 

"  For  mercy's  sake !  Bernhard,  what  is  this  you  say  ?" 
cried  Augusta,  while  the  governor  started  back  in  as- 
tonishment, looking  keenly  into  his  guest's  face. 

"Madam,  I  merely  state  a  painful  fact." 

"Berndal,  this  is  not  a  jest?"  asked  the  governor. 

"  It  is  a  very  serious  matter  to  me,"  replied  Bernhard, 
with  a  sorrowful  smile. 

"I  have  no  knowledge  of  it;  the  order  must  have 
been  entered  before  my  arrival."  He  rang  a  bell  and 
requested  the  presence  of  Adjutant  Goldmar;  then, 
after  walking  with  rapid  strides  across  the  floor  several 
times,  he  paused  suddenly  before  Bernhard,  asking, 
kindly,  "My  young  friend,  for  what  offense  have  you 
been  sent  here?" 

"I  had  the  misfortune  to  kill  Lieutenant  von  Brieloff 
in  a  duel." 

The  governor  resumed  his  walk.  Augusta  was  seated 
in  a  corner  of  the  sofa,  her  face  buried  in  her  hands. 
Adjutant  Goldmar  entered. 

"Have  we  an  order  to  receive  Dr.  Berndal  as  a 
state  prisoner?" 

"Yes,  general;  the  order  arrived  three  weeks  ago. 
He  will  occupy  the  quarters  vacated  by  Lieutenant 
Engelberg." 

"Thanks,  adjutant." 

When  the  officer  had  retired,  the  general  turned  to 
Bernhard  with  a  sigh,  his  face  expressing  deepest  regret, 
and  said,  "My  dear  Berndal,  there  is  no  room  left  for 
doubt.  I  am  sorry, — sorry  for  you,  and  also  for  your 


UNDER    THE  STORKS'   XEST.  14" 

estimable  parents.  This  must  be  a  very  distressing 
separation  for  them.  You  were  a  friend,  a  playmate, 
of  my  wife;  and  later  I  learned  of  your  worth  through 
other  sources.  For  her  sake,  and  because  I  am  heartily 
persuaded  that  you  merit  our  sympathy,  we  will  gladly 
endeavor  to  make  your  confinement  as  tolerable  as  may 
be  compatible  with  my  duty  as  commander  here.  If  you 
feel  disposed  to  accept  our  friendship  and  acquaint  us 
with  the  unfortunate  circumstances  that  resulted  so  dis- 
astrously, you  will  find  that  we  are  sincerely  interested 
in  all  that  can  affect  the  well-being  of  yourself  and  your 
family." 

"  Thank  you,"  replied  Bernliard,  deeply  touched  by 
the  general's  honest  avowal  of  regard.  "It  is  a  sad 
"story,  calamities  followed  one  another  so  rapidly  in  our 
once  happy  family  circle.  However,  I  will  relate  from 
the  beginning,  since  you  have  expressed  a  kindly  in- 
terest in  our  misfortunes." 

In  a  brief  but  comprehensive  manner  he  then  related 
the  unhappy  events  that  had  succeeded  one  another  with 
such  rapidity,  blighting  home  and  heart,  and  leaving 
only  misery  to  all  concerned. 

His  listeners  frequently  interrupted  with  exclamations 
of  sympathy.  The  general  was  visibly  affected.  Augusta 
tearfully  turned  to  the  young  man,  saying,  between  her 
sobs,  "  Poor,  poor  Martha !  It  is  so  horrible,  I  cannot 
realize  it!  And  your  dear  parents,  how  they  must  have 
suffered !  We  read  of  the  mysterious  disappearance  of 
a  young  lady,  of  a  duel,  also  of  the  murder  of  Captain 
von  Kleist;  but  we  did  not  associate  the  unhappy  oc- 
currences in  the  remotest  manner  with  your  iimiily. 
How  dreadful !  how  dreadful !" 


148  UNDER    THE  STORKS'   NEST. 

"Do  not  despond/'  said  the  general;  "unwavering 
courage,  my  dear  Berndal,  daily,  hourly,  in  every  dark 
phase  of  life,  you  will  require;  this  last  trial  must  not 
denude  the  future  of  hope  or  ambition.  There  is 
scarcely  an  instance  on  record  where  the  extreme  sever- 
ity of  a  judgment,  in  a  case  of  this  kind,  has  not  met 
with  clemency  and  the  sentence  been  considerably  miti- 
gated. In  a  year,  or  several  years,  you  will  be  free,  no 
doubt.  Still,  you  have  a  dangerous  enemy  in  the  father 
of  your  hapless  opponent.  I  know  him  well  for  an 
unprincipled,  vicious  person,  but,  unfortunately,  con- 
nected with  influential  families, — a  power  around  the 
sovereign.  He  is  immensely  wealthy,  and  since  the 
death  of  his  son  the  relationship  has  become  intensely 
solicitous  and  attentive  to  the  wishes  and  commands  of 
the  old  man.  However,  be  hopeful ;  I  shall  investigate 
the  case,  and  see  what  can  be  done." 

Then  to  his  wife  he  said,  "Gussie,  our  friend  dines 
with  us,  does  he  not?  After  dinner  we  will  escort  him 
to  his  future  quarters." 

The  fortress  was  a  massive  stone  building,  standing 
out  from  the  main-land,  and  entirely  surrounded  by 
water,  the  two  ponderous  iron  portals  connecting  with 
the  city  by  low-hanging  draw-bridges. 

Bernhard  shuddered  involuntarily  as  he  and  his 
companion  passed  through  the  gloomy  entrance.  On 
all  sides  his  glance  rested  on  martial  display,  and 
armed  sentries  were  posted  at  every  turn  along  the 
dusky  halls.  How  many  an  anxious  sigh  had  quivered 
in  the  sombre  air!  What  untold  longings,  ending  in 
impatient,  dreadful  curses,  may  not  have  died  away  un- 
heard within  these  hard,  cold  wal Is !  And  prayers  ?  Who 


UNDER    THE  STORKS'    NEST.  149 

shall  say  they  have  not  witnessed  the  passionate  out- 
pouring of  religious  supplication,  the  burning,  hopeless 
eyes  relieved  by  tears?  The  chill  gray  walls  cannot 
answer  or  judge  the  human  heart. 

Bernhard  possessed  a  firm,  resolute  character ;  he  had 
bravely  determined  to  face  without  shrinking  or  dread 
whatever  was  in  store  for  him.  Nevertheless,  with 
every  withdrawal  of  the  numerous  bolts  and  grating  of 
keys  in  their  locks  a  heavy  shackle  seemed  to  bind  the 
dreary  horror  of  his  situation  closely  to  his  heart. 

Another  bolt  is  removed;  the  turnkey  rattles  his  keys; 
again  comes  the  rasping,  grating  sound,  and  Beruhard 
stands  within  his  prison-cell. 

Poor  heart!  he  thought  he  was  its  master,  that  he 
had  conquered,  so  it  would  bend  submissively  to  him 
and  to  fate.  Rebelliously  it  beat  as  his  eyes  wandered 
around  his  future  home. 

A  little  stove,  a  wooden  stool,  a  table  furnished  with 
an  earthen  jug  containing  water,  a  wash-basin,  and  an 
iron  bedstead,  constituted  its  furniture.  Through  a 
small  aperture  in  the  wall,  above  the  reach  of  the  hand, 
the  sun  was  trying  to  force  a  few  straggling  rays  of 
light  between  the  perpendicular  iron  bars. 

Bernhard  began  to  realize  his  fate,  to  understand  that 
simple  little  word, — ^prisoner. 

Imprisonment.  Yes,  he  comprehended  now  what  it 
meant, — humble  the  soul,  crush  the  spirit,  martyr  the 
heart!  In  this  miserable  den,  lacking  the  meanest 
comforts,  he  must  pass  ten  years  of  his  life. 

He  was  not  a  spoiled  child,  brought  up  in  the  lap  of 
luxury  and  superfluity,  but  he  was  accustomed  to  every 
comfort  and  quiet  elegance,  in  harmony  with  tastes  that 

13* 


150  UNDER    THE  STORKS'    NEST. 

neither  startle  nor  disgust.  "What  he  would  miss  here 
above  all  else  were  the  little  trifling  things  mother  and 
home  offers, — things  that  were  as  necessary  to  him  as 
light  and  air.  Little  things!  Let  no  one  smile  or 
sneer  at  little  things;  it  is  to  them  our  heart  clings 
and  for  them  our  habits  call.  They  make  up  the  sum 
of  comfort,  as  seconds  make  the  minutes,  minutes  the 
hours,  hours  the  days,  days  the  weeks,  and  so  on  to  the 
end  of  the  year  and  of  time,  when  the  thread  of  life 
breaks.  Nature  does  not  work  in  bounds  and  jumps. 

Visit  the  palaces  of  kings  and  queens :  for  awhile 
you  will  be  astounded  by  the  splendor  and  magnificence-; 
but  by-and-by  you  will  become  restless;  you  will  miss 
that  very  something  that  satisfies,  the  simplicity  of 
habitual  little  things,  to  which  the  heart  turns  con- 
fidentially and  with  which  your  nature  is  familiar. 

You  crave  change.  You  wander  in  foreign  lands, 
behold  the  beautiful  scenes  described  so  vividly  by 
favorite  authors,  and  your  senses  are  seduced  for  a 
moment  by  the  brilliant  panoramic  display.  Soon 
the  feeling  of  complete  satisfaction  will  wear  away. 
A  yearning  will  creep  into  your  heart  for  a  sight  of 
the  dear  old  house,  of  the  window-sill  where  you  can 
see  the  blue  of  your  own  sky,  of  the  trees,  and  the 
garden.  Even  the  twittering  of  your  swallows  seems 
sweeter  music  to  your  home-sick  heart  than  all  the 
warbling  of  other  song-birds.  Their  domestic  coats 
are  dearer  to  your  memory  than  the  most  resplendent 
plumage  of  the  tropical  trogon.  Suddenly  the  world 
is  too  large  for  you.  Oh,  if  you  were  only  in  the 
arms  of  that  worn  old  chair,  breathing  again  the  at- 
mosphere of  home! 


UNDER    THE  STORKS'   NEST.  151 

Little  things  constitute  the  power  that  makes  or 
mars  life.  A  glance,  a  touch,  is  all  that  can  cheer, 
comfort,  or  relieve  the  dying.  Little  things  and  little 
habits  are  the  rulers  that  govern  humanity  until  we 
are  vanquished  by  the  last  little  sigh. 

Bernhard  was  human,  like  the  rest  of  us ;  and  at  the 
first  glance  around  his  narrow,  cheerless  premises,  he 
was  conscious  of  the  want  of  many  little  necessities 
which  habit  called  for  instantly.  With  a  glow  of  fer- 
vent gratitude  he  responded,  as  if  a  burden  had  been 
taken  from  his  mind,  when  the  kind  old  general  said, 
"It  looks  rather  uninviting  and  comfortless  just  now, 
Berndal,  but  you  are  at  liberty  to  furnish  your  quarters 
to  suit  your  taste  to  the  minutest  requirement." 

He  was  not  long  in  availing  himself  of  this  permis- 
sion; and  a  couple  of  days  later  his  surroundings  pre- 
sented as  pleasing  and  comfortable  an  appearance  as  his 
situation  would  admit. 

Altogether,  his  prison-life  proved  far  more  tolerable 
than  he  had  anticipated.  He  was  at  liberty  to  receive 
visitors,  and  was  free  to  visit  in  return,  after  going 
through  the  form  of  asking  permission;  according  to 
the  rules. 

At  a  certain  hour  in  the  morning  his  cell  was  un- 
locked, and  in  the  evening,  at  the  regulation  moment, 
the  door  was  bolted  and  locked  again. 

At  night  an  officer  of  the  guard  accompanied  the 
turnkey  on  his  rounds,  for  a  last  assurance  of  the  pres- 
ence and  welfare  of  their  highly-valued  guests. 

Bernhard,  having  no  acquaintance  in  the  city  besides 
the  general's  family,  received  no  visitors  and  made  no 
calls.  He  had  no  desire  to  avail  himself  of  the  press- 


152  UNDER    THE  STORKS'   NEST. 

ing  invitations  to  frequent  the  friendly  commandant's 
house.  The  presence  of  the  general's  wife  was  painful 
to  him;  he  had  loved  her  from  earliest  boyhood  with 
a  passion  that  had  grown  with  his  years;  and,  wrestle 
and  struggle  with  it  as  he  would,  love  still  occupied  his 
heart. 

His  time  was  occupied  in  studying  and  music. 

Three  months  passed  thus,  when  he  was  surprised  by 
a  visit  from  his  father  and  Albert.  The  seconds  in  the 
unhappy  duel  had  been  pardoned  and  released.  Uncle 
Thomas  and  the  ladies  were  still  abroad,  and  as  soon  as 
Albert  was  free  Uncle  Thomas  commanded  his  dear 
nephew  to  "  throw  jurisprudence  to  the  dogs"  and  pre- 
sent himself  directly  before  him,  to  gain  renewed  health 
and  cheerfulness  in  a  salubrious  climate  and  good 
society.  In  obedience  to  this  command  he  joined  Judge 
Berndal  in  a  visit  to  Bernhard,  afterwards  continuing 
his  journey  to  his  friends  and  Uncle  Thomas. 

Albert's  unexpected  release  gave  great  hopes  to  Bern- 
hard's  parents  and  friends  that  he  would  meet  with  a 
proportionate  abbreviation  of  his  sentence  also. 

When  father  and  son  parted  again,  it  was  with  fond 
expectations  of  an  early  reunion  in  the  home  circle. 

Bernhard  returned  to  his  dreaming  and  studies, 
striving  manfully  to  conquer  every  tender  sentiment 
that  daily  bubbled  up  anew  for  the  love  of  his  life, — 
the  wife  of  his  friend. 

Since  her  marriage  she  had  fulfilled  the  promise 
of  early  womanhood :  she  had  become  a  magnificent 
woman  under  the  tender,  loving  care  of  her  husband. 

The  general  had  been  the  intimate  friend  and  asso- 
ciate of  her  father,  who  had  a  large  family,  and  just 


UNDER    THE  STORKS'    NEST.  153 

sufficient  income  to  make  a  respectable  appearance, 
without  being  able  to  provide  for  a  contingent  future  in 
the  event  of  his  death,  which  occurred  when  Augusta, 
the  oldest  of  his  children,  was  scarcely  a  woman  in 
years.  The  last  hours  of  his  life  were  gladdened  by 
the  promise  of  his  friend  that  while  he  lived  the  wife 
and  children  of  the  dying  man  would  be  provided  for. 

A  year  later  he  asked  Augusta's  mother  for  her 
daughter's  hand  in  marriage.  The  answer  was  favorable. 
They  were  married.  He  was  happy  and  contented  with 
his  wife, — loved  her  devotedly.  She  gave  him  all  her 
heart  had  to  offer, — the  love  of  a  daughter  for  an  in- 
dulgent, kind  father,  duty,  and  boundless  respect. 

Bernhard  loved  while  he  despised  her. 

"  Oh,  why  cannot  I  forget  her,  tear  her  treacherous 
image  out  of  my  heart?  Did  not  she  forsake  me? 
prove  faithless  and  untrue  ?"  he  cried,  bitterly.  And  yet 
he  could  not  forget  her  any  more  than' he  could  have 
forgotten  his  mother. 

Destiny  had  again  placed  him  in  the  magic  circle  of 
her  presence ;  and  the  love  he  supposed  resting  calmly 
under  the  power  of  contempt  rose  in  its  might  with 
overmastering  poignancy.  He  must  shun  her ;  avoid 
every  possibility  of  coming  in  contact  with  her.  When 
accident  brought  them  together  he  assumed  a  cold,  rude 
manner  to  disguise  his  real  feeling. 

And  Augusta? 

On  the  day  he  so  suddenly  appeared  before  her, 
while  she  was  listening  to  his  own  sad  story  and  that 
of  the  misfortunes  of  his  family,  it  seemed  to  her  as  if 
she  were  back  among  them  once  more ;  the  happy  group 
in  the  sitting-room  of  the  old  gable-roofed  house  were 

G* 


154  UNDER    THE  STORKS'   NEST. 

around  her  with  their  loving  faces,  and  a  wild  desire 
took  possession  of  her  to  cast  herself  at  his  feet  with 
the  cry,  "  Forgive,  forgive,  Bernhard  !  I  have  not  been 
untrue !  I  have  ever  loved  you, — I  love  you,  you 
only !" 

Then  the  voice,  so  calm  and  gentle,  of  her  husband 
recalled  her  to  the  present,  and  her  heart  said,  "  I  dare 
not,  I  must  not  love  him ;  I  am  a  wife,  the  wife  of 
another." 

Her  husband,  seeing  her  distress,  walked  over  to  her 
.side,  and,  placing  his  arm  fondly  around  her,  as  if 
knowing  how  she  needed  his  protection,  drew  her  head 
on  his  breast  and  softly  stroked  her  glossy  hair,  while 
she  buried  her  burning  face  in  his  bosom,  saying  to 
herself,  "  This  is  my  place ;  I  will  not  permit  a  thought 
of  him  to  come  between  us,  God  help  me !" 

Are  the  demons  ever  entirely  conquered  ?  We  battle 
with  our  feelings,  and  to-day  we  imagine  we  have  gained 
the  victory.  To-morrow  the  siege  begins  anew ;  the 
victory  of  yesterday  was  but  a  harbinger  of  the  conflict 
that  is  renewed  daily.  Hundreds  of  battles  are  fought ; 
yet  one  little  weakness,  one  defeat,  and  we  are  lost  be- 
yond retrieving. 

Poor  woman's  heart!  Such  are  the  conflicts  that 
rage  and  pierce,  slaughter  and  perforate,  that  frail 
human  citadel. 

The  temptations  are  like  subtle,  deceiving  will-o'-the- 
wisps,  glowing  in  the  dusk  of  inclination  with  their 
false  flare.  We  cannot  destroy  them, — they  will  not 
die ;  so  we  live  and  struggle,  holding  guard  over  the 
rebellious  elements ;  ever  armed  besiegers ;  never,  alas ! 
never  victors. 


UNDER    THE  STORKS'   NEST.  155 

If  one  fall,  tired  and  worn,  in  the  perpetual  conten- 
tion, let  the  untried  or  untired  ones  fall  on  their  knees 
and  give  thanks  to  God  for  their  endurance,  and  while 
thus  engaged  let  their  eyes  also  be  raised,  and  not  seek- 
ing the  ground  for  the  moral  stone  to  throw  at  the 
unfortunate  one. 

The  commandant  was  very  much  pleased  with  Bern- 
hard,  and  visited  him  frequently,  urgently  pressing  him 
to  take  more  exercise,  and  playfully  rallying  him  upon 
his  preference  for  the  cell  when  the  society  of  himself 
and  Augusta  was  at  his  command. 

"  You  are  strangely  changed,  Berndal,"  he  said  on 
one  of  these  occasions.  "  If  I  recollect  aright,  you  were 
formerly  very  fond  of  society  and  company ;  and  now 
you  seem  as  contented  here  in  your  lonely  retirement  as 
a  fish  in  the  water." 

Bernhard  replied,  "  I  am  making  up  for  lost  time : 
when  I  should  have  attended  to  my  books  I  was  ever 
fond  of  shirking  them." 

"Never  mind  your  books  now;  come  home  with 
me  and  help  entertain  my  wife.  She  appears  homesick 
and  out  of  spirits.  The  company  of  an  old  friend  will 
cheer  her." 

Augusta  longed  for  his  presence,  and  listened  for  his 
footsteps  with  a  beating  heart;  but  duty  forbade  the 
foolish  indulgence.  "I  must  not  see  him,  I  dare  not 
love  him  !"  Yet  still  the  obstinate  heart  had  its  own 
way,  and  willfully  said,  "  But  I  do  love  him !" 

She  read  his  heart  and  his  struggles  :  his  cold,  distant 
manner  could  not  deceive  her;  and  while  she  was 
wounded  by  his  disdain,  she  rejoiced  in  the  oppor- 
tunity it  gave  her  to  mask  her  own  feelings  by  apparent 


156  UNDER    THE  STORKS'    NEST. 

displeasure.  Deceived  by  this  repellant  deportment, 
Bernhard  supposed  she  had  forgotten  him,  and  was 
happy  with  her  deserving,  noble  husband.  He  despised 
his  own  weakness,  and  would  have  cheerfully  destroyed 
himself  piecemeal  if  he  had  believed  himself  capable 
of  disturbing  the  harmony  of  the  general's  life  by  a 
dishonorable  thought  in  connection  with  his  wife. 

But  in  his  soul  there  burned  the  unquenchable,  tor- 
menting fire  of  his  love.  For  the  right  of  holding  her 
once  more  in  his  arms,  for  the  exquisite  privilege  of 
pressing  his  lips  to  hers  and  uttering  the  words  that 
occupied  all  his  waking  and  sleeping  thoughts,  "  I  love 
you,  I  love  you  still !"  he  would  have  laid  do\vn  his 
life. 

Through  every  imaginable  excuse,  he  sometimes  es- 
caped the  good  commandant's  importunities,  and  thus 
saved  himself  and,  without  suspecting  it,  Augusta  the 
distress  of  meeting,  and  a  renewed  contest  with  right 
and  duty. 


CHAPTER    XII. 

AUTUMN  came,  and  with  it  arrived  the  delight  of  a 
visit  from  Mrs.  Berndal,  Matilda,  and  Uncle  Thomas. 
To  say  that  the  meeting  between  the  prisoner  and  his 
loved  ones  was  not  exciting,  would  be  to  overlook  the 
kissing  and  embracing  and  laughing  through  tearful 
eyes ;  exclamations  of  wonder  from  his  mother,  who 
expected  to  greet  her  son  goodness  only  knows  how 


UNDER    THE  STORKS'   NEST.  157 

deep  down  in  the  "  slough  of  despond."  She  had 
imagined  her  boy  in  anything  but  the  comfortable 
situation  in  which  she  found  him.  A  picture  of  his 
pale,  starved  face,  as  he  rose  out  of  some  dark  dungeon 
from  a  pile  of  damp  straw,  perhaps  with  a  chain  on  his 
feet,  his  hands  manacled,  had  haunted  her  for  weeks. 
Her  knees  trembled,  her  limbs  nearly  failed  to  support 
her,  as  she  entered  the  gloomy  portals  of  the  building. 

Infinitely  relieved,  she  again  and  again  embraced 
him.  "You  look  quite  comfortable,"  she  cried;  "and 
if  that  little  square  of  light  up  there  only  had  a  nice 

white  curtain  instead  of  those  rusty  old  bars " 

Still,  she  sighed  contentedly. 

Uncle  Thomas's  bad  habits  had  him  again  in  their 
clutches;  he  swore  harder  than  ever,  and  declared  that 
the  fact  of  his  having  been  such  a  martyr  to  the  gout 
last  winter  was  entirely  ascribable  to  his  remarkably 
good  behavior  and  total  abstinence  from  profanity. 

"I  suffered  untold  martyrdom  in  the  cause  of  your 
delicate  nerves,"  he  assured  them  repeatedly. 

"Albert  is  going  to  stay  in  Paris,"  grumbled  the  old 
man  to  Bernhard.  "Les  maudits  crapauds!  Still,  the 
young  scamp  is  right.  Paris  is  the  place  to  live,  and 
people  there  understand  how  to  make  the  most  of  life." 

Matilda  and  her  mother  were  astonished  at  all  they 
saw  and  heard.  To  them  it  was  incomprehensible  that 
the  poor  prisoners  in  close  confinement,  or  permitted 
exercise  only  under  surveillance,  could  laugh  and  joke 
as  if  it  were  not  of  the  least  importance  to  them  how 
their  lives  were  passed. 

A  splendid-looking  young  man  in  the  procession  of 
prisoners  marching  through  their  daily  exercise  attracted 

14 


158  UNDER    THE  STORKS'   NEST. 

Matilda's  attention  in  particular.  In  passing  them  he 
took  from  between  his  lips  a  rose,  and,  dashing  it  to 
the  pavement,  crushed  it  under  his  heel,  muttering, 
"Thus  everything  lovely  should  be  ground  out  of  ex- 
istence !" 

A  rough  motion  from  one  of  the  guards  called  the 
bold  fellow  to  order;  but  Bernhard,  who  was  familiar 
with  his  history,  said,  "  Poor  soul !  he  is  mad,  and  should 
be  in  an  asylum  for  the  insane. 

"He  belongs  to  a  good  family;  he  was  engaged  to 
be  married  to  a  young  lady  whom  he  dearly  loved,  but 
discovered  that  she  was  carrying  on  an  intrigue  with 
another;  he  watched  and  followed  her,  and  while  she 
was  in  the  arms  of  her  secret  lover,  he  killed  them 
both,  and  quietly  gave  himself  up  to  be  hung  or  shot, 
as  he  hoped. 

"Through  the  intercession  of  his  friends,  however, 
he  was  condemned  to  imprisonment  for  life,  instead 
of  being  granted  the  boon  of  death. 

"He  keeps  away  from  every  one,  and  occupies  his 
time  in  carving  ornaments  out  of  wood  and  selling 
them  for  money  wherewith  to  purchase  roses.  He  has 
a  passion  for  this  flower,  possibly  because  the  young 
lady's  name  was  Rose;  and  I  believe  he  would  become 
wild  if  he  could  not  obtain  at  any  price  a  fresh  rose 
every  day,  simply  for  the  purpose  of  using  it  as  you 
have  observed, — crushing  it.  Death  would  be  a  mercy 
to  him." 

Bernhard  accompanied  his  friends  to  the  house  of  the 
general,  where  another  happy  meeting  took  place.  The 
singular  coldness  between  Bernhard  and  his  hostess  did 
not  escape  their  observation.  His  mother  watched  them 


UNDER   THE  STORKS'   NEST.  159 

with  anxiety  in  silence.  Uncle  Thomas  and  Matilda, 
at  the  first  opportunity,  began  to  tease  them,  and  in- 
quire the  cause  of  the  estrangement  between  two  who 
had  formerly  been  such  devoted  friends.  Naturally, 
this  only  created  a  greater  display  of  hostility. 

The  second  day  after  their  arrival,  Matilda  begged 
their  hostess  to  give  them  some  music. 

"Some  of  the  old  songs.  You  recollect  that  charm- 
ing duet  you  and  Bernhard  used  to  sing  ?  Come,  brother, 
let  us  have  that!"  exclaimed  Matilda. 

"  You  must  really  excuse  me ;  I  cannot  sing." 

"Hear  him,  Augusta:  he  has  forgotten  how  to  sing! 
Try  the  magic  of  your  pleading,  dear,  and  see  if  it 
will  not  work  as  in  former  days,  when  one  word  from 
you  tamed  the  obstinate  lion  and  he  became  yielding  as 
a  kitten." 

"The  doctor's  memory  being  defective,  the  old  charm 
is  doubtless  lost  with  it.  Words  of  mine  would  be  vain 
also." 

"  You  mistake,  madam ;  one  word  is  sufficient.  Tell 
me  to  sing,  and  I  obey." 

"I  have  no  desire  to  make  a  request  that  might  carry 
in  its  embodiment  an  infliction  for  Dr.  Berndal." 

Bernhard  bowed  gravely,  and  reseated  himself  on 
the  sofa  beside  his  mother. 

"Oh,  charming!  delightful!"  cried  Matilda, clapping 
her  hands  merrily.  "A  lovers'  quarrel  without  the 
lovers !" 

"Matilda!"  admonished  her  mother;  but,  unheeding, 
she  continued:  " Children,  have  you  been  naughty?  are 
you  pouting?  Let  me  restore  peace  and  good  will.  It 
does  not  become  people  who  have  been  faithful  as  the 


160  UNDER    THE  STORKS'    NEST. 

real  inseparables  from  earliest  childhood  to  sulk  and 
quarrel  in  their  old  age,  like — like " 

"  Turtle-doves !"  interposed  Uncle  Thomas. 

"I  am  sure  I  have  no  cause  to  pout  at  the  doctor/' 
Augusta  replied,  shortly. 

"I  am  greatly  relieved  to  hear  it.  I  should  be  dread- 
fully sorry  to  learn  that  my  brother  with  the  dubious 
face  had  occasioned  you  pain.  Shall  I  tell  you  how 
you  look  at  this  moment?  Just  as  you  did  one  even- 
ing while  we  were  still  in  the  glory  of  short  clothes. 
You  remember  it  was  at  one  of  our  merry-makings? 
You  deserted  the  circle,  and,  standing  isolated  in  one 
corner  of  the  room,  with  a  grieved  voice  cried,  'Bern- 
hard  kissed  Lina!' " 

Matilda  distorted  her  face  so  ruefully,  and  imitated 
the  sobbing  of  a  child  with  such  ludicrous  perfection, 
that  every  one  laughed. 

Augusta  flushed  with  embarrassment,  and  replied,  in 
confusion,  "I  have  no  recollection  of  it!" 

Bernhard  turned  pale,  and  sternly  reminded  his  sister 
that  "such  silly  references  were  undignified  and  out  of 
place.  That  was  children's  play;  nonsense!" 

"  Not  a  bit  of  it !"  exclaimed  Uncle  Thomas.  "  Take 
the  word  of  an  honest  man,  general,  it  was  a  serious 
affair.  The  little  lady's  protest  made  such  an  impres- 
sion that  the  rogue  never  ventured  to  kiss  Lina  again. 
It  was  an  understood  matter  that  he  was  her  private 
property,  infringements  not  permitted !" 

"Uncle  Thomas,  how  can  you  utter  such  absurd- 
ities?" 

"My  dear  madam,  facts,  absolute  facts;  and,  general, 
the  devoted  youth  would  follow  her  about,  and  stand 


UNDER    THE  STORKS'   NEST.  IQl 

for  hours  on  the  watch.  When  she  happened  to  be 
making  a  call  or  to  be  taking  music- lessons  at  the 
teacher's  house,  his  humble  adoration  was  rewarded 
by  a  smile  or  bow,  and  perhaps  his  tireless  vigil  re- 
quited by  condescending  permission  to  accompany  her 
home." 

"How  can  you  say  such  things  about  Bernhard, 
Uncle  Thomas?  It  wasn't  him  at  all :  it  was  Albert!" 
exclaimed  Augusta. 

"A  thousand  pardons,  madam!  You  do  the  absent 
gentleman  too  much  honor.  Your  memory  is  a  little 
bit  treacherous,  dear  lady.  Poor  Albert  used  to  stand 
in  the  background  a  hundred  paces,  scowling  danger- 
ously at  his  more  fortunate  brother  from  his  post  of 
observation  behind  that  old  linden-tree  in  front  of  the 
apothecary's  shop." 

Augusta  was  forced  to  join  the  general  merriment  at 
her  expense ;  the  old  gentleman's  pointed  joke  was 
irresistible. 

Her  husband  glanced  affectionately  at  her,  and  laugh- 
ingly said,  "  Gussie !  Gussie !  this  is  a  sad  report  for 
my  old  ears, — Bernhard,  broken-heart  JS"o.  1 ;  Albert, 
broken-heart  No.  2.  Still,  if  I  have  as  little  reason 
to  cultivate  a  savage  jealousy  in  connection  with  for- 
saken No.  2  as  the  devotion  of  No.  1  occasions  me, 
my  blessed  peace  of  mind  will  remain  undisturbed." 

Sitting  in  his  cell  that  night,  Bernhard  gave  himself 
to  the  recollections  of  the  past.  Well  he  remembered 
the  incident  when  Augusta,  a  pretty  little  girl  in  a  short 
frock,  went  pouting  into  a  corner  because  he  had  been 
condemned  to  pay  court — as  a  forfeit — to  another  girl. 
He  had  loved  her  with  an  unswerving  devotion  from 

14* 


162  UNDER    THE  STORKS'    NEST. 

that  hour,  and  his  heart  bounded  joyfully  as  he  recalled 
her  preference  for  him  even  at  that  age. 

One  evening,  a  few  years  later,  when  they  were  at  a 
picnic  together,  and  became  separated  from  the  party, 
wandering  arm-in-arm  along  the  greensward,  he  stooped 
and  gathered  a  handful  of  clover,  picking  from  among 
the  number  a  four-leaved  one,  and  began  telling  his 
fortune.  "  She  loves- — she  loves  me  not — she  loves  me 
dearly,"  he  said.  Looking  into  her  face,  he  asked, — 

"  Does  she,  Gussie?" 

"  The  oracle  has  told  you,"  she  replied,  softly. 

"  And  what  do  you  say  ?" 

"  If  you  do  not  trust  to  its  answer  the  first  time,  ask 
again,"  she  said,  without  looking  at  him,  but  he  felt  her 
hand  tremble  on  his  arm ;  or  was  it  the  singular  pulsa- 
tion of  his  heart  that  made  him  quiver,  sending  a  thrill 
of  happiness  through  his  whole  being  ?  No,  her  hand 
trembled  as  she  also  took  a  clover,  saying,  "  I'm  going 
to  tell  my  fortune  now.  He  loves — he  loves  me  not — 
he  loves  me " 

As  she  was  about  to  complete  the  sentence,  the  leaf 
fell  from  the  stem,  and  was  carried  away  by  the  wind. 

"  Oh,  dear,"  she  cried,  "  there  you  go  !" 

"  Gussie,  darling,  is  it  indeed  me  you  love  ?"  he  had 
exclaimed,  with  delight.  And  when  he  would  have  taken 
her  hand  to  press  it  to  his  lips,  she  had  withdrawn  it 
gently,  and  asked  him  who  his  oracle  was. 

"  You,  Gussie ;  you  are  the  only  one  in  all  the  world 
that  can  mould  my  future  and  give  me  happiness,  for  I 
love  you,  love  you  dearly.  I  would  rather  die  than 
know  I  should  have  to  live  without  you,  though  I 
owned  all  else  earth  could  offer." 


UNDER    THE  STORKS'    NEST.  163 

Then  voices  of  disinterested  parties  had  broken  the 
charm  for  that  day ;  but  for  a  week  he  had  lived  like 
one  in  ethereal  bliss,  until  another  opportunity  gave 
him  a  moment  with  her.  He  had  clasped  her  in  his 
arms,  and  asked,  in  trembling  ecstasy, — 

"  You  are  mine,  my  birdie,  my  wife  ?" 

"  Sit  here  beside  me,  Bernhard,"  she  had  said.  "  I 
am  going  to  talk  sensibly ;  I  have  been  so  happy  since 
our  last  interview  together !  I  do  nothing  but  think 
and  dream  of — Bernhard." 

He  remembered  well  how  near  he  came  to  crushing 
the  delicate  little  hand  resting  in  his  own,  while  he  ex- 
pressed his  exuberant  joy  at  this  confession.  "Nothing, 
nothing  shall  part  us !" 

"  Nothing ;  no  power  on  earth  !"  she  had  said,  look- 
ing him  full  in  the  eyes  with  her  beautiful  clear  gaze. 
"  But  we  mast  part  of  our  own  will  for  the  present." 

"  Impossible,  Gussie  !  You  do  not  know  what  you 
say !" 

"  I  do,  Bernhard ;  and  to  a  man  everything  should  be 
possible  that  sense  and  right  tell  him  is  necessary." 

"  But  why  necessary  ?" 

"  Because  we  are  both  so  young ;  you  have  not  com- 
pleted your  education,  and  I  am  still  under  the  care  of 
teachers.  What  would  our  parents  say  ?  What  would 
people  say  ?" 

"  Let  them  say  what  they  will ;  I  can  brave  their 
opinion." 

"  So  can  I,  Bernhard,  but  I  will  not.  I  promise  to 
wait  for  and  love  you,  and  you  alone,  but  I  do  not  de- 
sire that  any  one  shall  know  of  our  engagement  until 
you  are  in  a  condition  to  appear  before  your  parents 


164  UNDER    THE  STORKS'   NEST. 

and  mine  and  say,  '  Augusta  has  promised  to  be  my 
wife :  as  I  am  able  to  provide  and  care  for  her,  I  trust 
you  are  favorable  to  the  contract,' " 

"Augusta,  you  are  cold  and  proud." 

"  Proud,  I  acknowledge,  but  only  where  it  concerns 
you,  whom  I  love  so  dearly.  You  see,  Bernhard,  girls 
as  young  as  I  am  often  marry,  but  a  young  man  in 
your  circumstances  should  not  subject  himself  to  the 
ridicule  of  his  companions  and  the  world.  I  will  not 
have  it !  and  you  shall  not  be  an  object  of  sport  because 
you  are  engaged  to  be  married  before  you  are  out  of 
school.  You  know  they  will  laugh  at  you." 

"  You  are  right,  Gussie  :  it  is  perhaps  better  to  keep 
our  engagement  secret.  I  could  not  endure  to  be  laughed 
at  like  a  boy  when  I  feel  that  I  am  a  man." 

"  Then  you  promise,  dear  Bernhard  ?" 

"  I  promise ;  but  why  renounce  our  happiness,  the 
enjoyment  of  each  other's  society?  why  part?" 

"  What  a  question  for  you  to  ask  me !  Bernhard, 
would  it  be  right  or  proper  for  you  and  me  to  have 
secret  interviews  or  deceive  our  parents  ?  I  hope  you 
will  be  content  with  the  knowledge  that  I  love  you, 
and  will  wait  for  you  until  the  time  arrives  that  we  can 
be  openly  betrothed  with  the  sanction  of  our  families. 
Will  you  promise  to  abide  by  this  ?" 

"  I  will !"  he  replied,  solemnly. 

Then  she  had  put  her  arms  around  his  neck,  and 
pressed  her  lips  to  his,  passionately  exclaiming,  "Dear, 
dear  Bernhard,  now  I  am  happy !  Let  this  be  our 
parting  kiss,  until — until "  Then,  releasing  her- 
self from  his  clasp,  she  ran  away,  leaving  the  sentence 
for  him  to  finish. 


UNDER    THE  STORKS'    NEST.  165 

On  his  first  visit  home  from  the  university,  it  was  a 
sore  trial  to  hear  his  mother  and  his  friends  sing  the 
praises  of  his  darling  and  be  forced  to  keep  silence, 
while  his  whole  soul  was  filled  with  the  thought,  "She 
is  mine;  the  beautiful,  lovely  girl  will  be  my  wife 
some  day." 

It  was  a  proud,  happy  time  for  him.  Then  the  end 
came.  She  came  to  his  home  one  day,  and  was  so  sor- 
rowful, and  looked  at  him  with  such  mournful  tender- 
ness, that  he  had  ventured  to  take  her  hand  a  moment 
and  ask  her  if  he  had  grieved  her.  She  had  wept  bit- 
terly, saying,  "  Bernhard  !  oh,  dear  Bernhard  !  I  cannot 
tell  you  now ;  but  you  shall  know  all  soon  !" 

His  eyes  refused  their  rest  that  long,  troubled  night, 
and  the  next  report  from  her  was  her  severe  illness,  and 
her  engagement  to  another. 

The  shameless  coquette !  That  explained  her  pru- 
dery ;  that  was  why  their  love  must  remain  secret. 
Oh,  God !  will  he  ever  be  able  to  forget  the  madden- 
ing, surging  emotions  that  swept  with  their  tormenting, 
destroying  billows  over  his  hopes  ? 

Ah,  his  watchful,  tender  mother  saved  him  from  self- 
destruction.  Sweet,  gentle  mother-heart,  God  bless  its 
wordless  sympathy ! 

How  he  scorned  himself  for  his  weakness  !  The  girl 
had  made  a  toy  of  him ;  had  laughed,  perhaps,  in  secret 
at  his  silly  worship ;  had  thrown  him  aside  when  a 
better  offer  presented  itself.  She  had  been  tempted  by 
the  glitter  of  an  old  man's  dollars;  had  turned  dis- 
dainfully from  the  simplicity  of  his  honest  love  to 
play  with  decorative  honors. 

He  had  met  her  once  after  her  recovery,  and  this 


166  UNDER    THE  STORKS'    NEST. 

scornful  opinion  he  had  cast  in  her  face.  He  would 
not  listen  to  the  explanation  she  so  earnestly-  pleaded 
with  him  to  hear.  He  had  even  assured  her  that  she 
might  be  at  rest,  that  her  little  nonsense  with  the  foolish 
boy  would  be  buried  with  him.  "  I  shall  keep  our 
love  secret !"  He  had  quoted  her  words  with  scornful 
emphasis.  What  good  were  her  tears,  her  sad  face? 
Did  they  make  her  less  false  ? 

Bernhard,  sitting  a  lonely  prisoner,  recalled  all  this, 
and  to-night  he  said  to  himself,  "  I  was  brutal ;  I 
should  have  listened  to  her  explanation.  There  may 
have  been  powerful  influences,  irresistible  reasons  bear- 
ing on  her  marriage,  and  I  turned  from  her  with  the 
hot  temper  of  a  boy." 

Let  us  take  the  reader  back  a  few  years  in  the  life  of 
Augusta,  and  see  what  influenced  her  to  become  faith- 
less to  her  love. 

She  was  the  oldest  of  a  family  of  six  children.  When 
her  father  died  he  left  them  absolutely  without  mainte- 
nance. His  income  had  been  sufficiently  large;  but 
her  mother,  indifferent  to  the  future,  and  being  accus- 
tomed to  lavish  display  and  having  every  desire  gratified, 
did  not  take  into  consideration  the  increase  of  expendi- 
ture with  the  increase  and  growth  of  her  family,  and 
sometimes  indulged  her  extravagant  notions  of  living 
even  beyond  their  income.  Thus,  when  her  husband 
died,  their  revenue  was  exhausted. 

The  general  had  promised  to  care  for  his  friend's  wife 
and  children,  and  frequently  availed  himself  of  a  guar- 
dian's privilege  to  visit  them  and  see  after  their  welfare. 
He  interested  himself  particularly  in  the  studies  of  the 
amiable  and  dutiful  Augusta,  and  she  looked  up  to  him 


UNDER    THE  STORKS'    NEST.  167 

and  confided  in  him  like  a  daughter.  It  was  not  sin- 
gular that  he  should  mistake  her  affectionate  regard, 
and  build  castles  wherein  the  sweet  girl  ruled  his  tender 
heart  and  silvery  locks. 

The  worldly-inclined  mother  strengthened  his  hopes, 
as  only  such  mothers  know  how,  looking  forward  to  a 
continuation  of  her  former  brilliant  life  and  a  shining 
future  for  her  daughter  if  this  man  became  her  son-in- 
law. 

And  on  this  she  was  determined.  No  manoeuvring 
was  spared,  no  stratagem  left  untried,  to  bring  about 
the  state  of  mind  necessary  to  broach  the  subject  to  her 
daughter  with  favorable  results.  Since  the  death  of 
her  husband  she  had  become  an  invalid,  and  Augusta 
scarcely  ever  left  her,  but  would  sit  beside  the  sofa  or 
couch  where  her  mother  reclined,  and  read  to  her,  or 
with  employed  hands  amuse  and  entertain  her. 

Seated  beside  the  invalid  as  usual  one  afternoon, 
the  latter  said,  with  sudden  animation,  "Gussie,  have 
you  heard  about  Ada  Winter's  engagement?  She  has 
done  well  for  herself  with  her  ugly,  dark  little  mulatto 
face!" 

"  I  had  not  heard  of  it.    Who  is  the  fortunate  man  ?" 

"I  do  not  conceive  wherein  his  good  fortune  lies. 
She  has  managed  to  catch  that  rich  banker's  son,  that 
handsome  Schabel.  He  could  have  done  better.  I 
cannot  imagine  what  he  found  winning  about  her." 

"  She  is  not  pretty,  true,  but  she  is " 

"Stupid!" 

"Oh,  no!  I  had  no  idea  of  saying  that.  She  is 
really  a  sensible,  kind-hearted  girl,  and  I  am  quite  sure 
she  will  make  young  Mr.  Schabel  happy." 


168  UNDER    THE  STORKS'   NEST. 

"I  think  I  have  a  greater  surprise  in  store  for  our 
friends  when  they  hear  of  the  splendid  match  my  pretty 
Gussie  will  make." 

The  young  girl  blushed  and  bowed  her  face  over  her 
sewing,  yet  feeling  instinctively  the  hidden  significance 
in  her  mother's  flattering  address,  portentous  for  herself, 
as  she  replied, — 

"That  surprise  is  not  overwhelmingly  near;  they 
will  have  time  to  recover  from  their  dismay  occasioned 
by  Ada  Winter's  good  fortune,  at  all  events." 

"Who  knows?"  continued  the  other  lady,  impress- 
ively. "You  sly  puss!  why  do  you  look  so  confused? 
Has  the  gentleman  anticipated  me?" 

"What  gentleman?"  exclaimed  Augusta,  now  thor- 
oughly alarmed  and  startled. 

"A  man,  my  dear  child,  entirely  \vorthy  of  a  dutiful, 
considerate  daughter;  a  gentleman  possessing  wealth, 
honor,  and  position,  an  agreeable  presence  and  a  mag- 
nanimous heart.  Such  a  suitor  wishes  to  rob  me  of 
my  sweet  daughter.  What  does  she  say?" 

The  sweet  daughter  said,  curtly,  "I  will  not  have 
him !  I  do  not  wish  to  be  married !" 

"That  is  what  we  all  say,  my  dear;  but  when  the 
question  comes  direct,  we  very  sensibly  say  Yes." 

"Then  pray  spare  this  man  the  humiliation  of  meet- 
ing with  an  exception,  for  I  shall  certainly  say  No!" 

"  You  will  consider,  dear  heart,  before  making  such 
a  reply." 

"Do  not  jest  with  me,  dear  mother;  the  subject  is 
disagreeable." 

"Augusta,  I  am  not  jesting;  the  suitor  has  asked  my 
consent.  He  is  anxiously  awaiting  your  confirmation, 


UNDER    THE  STORKS'    NEST. 

for  I  thankfully  assented.  I  cannot  tell  you  the 
utter  relief  and  peace  I  have  enjoyed  since  our  future 
is  so  promising  and  free  from  care, — yours  in  particu- 
lar. Why  do  you  not  ask  who  this  generous  wooer 
may  be?" 

"I  do  not  wish  to  know.     I  will  not  be  tormented." 

Augusta  rose,  and  would  have  left  the  room,  but  a 
stern  command  from  her  mother  changed  her  purpose. 

"Remain  here,  miss!" 

"Oh,  mother " 

"Listen.  The  general  has  asked  me  for  your  hand 
in  marriage.  I  am  already  under  extreme  obligations 
to  him.  Your  father  in  dying  soothed  his  last  hours 
with  the  hope  that  the  noble  heart  of  his  friend  would 
turn  to  you  and  find  in  your  love  and  gratitude  his 
reward  for  his  devoted  friendship.  I  promised  the 
general  a  favorable  reply." 

"But  I  do  not  love  him;  only — only  as  I  could  feel 
towards  a  father." 

"Stupid  girl!  Love  comes  after  marriage.  What 
do  girls  know  about  love?  They  have  only  to  study 
the  wishes  of  their  parents,  who  are  the  best  judges  of 
what  is  suitable  and  desirable  for  their  children.  Love! 
Fiddle-sticks!  You  will  marry  the  general;  that  is 
settled." 

Augusta  knelt  at  her  mother's  feet,  crying  and  plead- 
ing, "You  make  me  wretched  for  life!"  But,  visitors 
being  announced,  she  hastily  left  the  room. 

It  was  that  day  she  went  to  Judge  Berndal's  house, 
ostensibly  to  communicate  with  Bernhard,  and  found 
herself  unable  to  tell  him  her  distress. 

When  she  returned,  her  mother  said,  "The  general 
H  15 


170  UNDER    THE  STORKS'    NEST. 

has  been  here;  he  will  call  to-morrow  for  your  definite 
answer.  What  will  it  be?" 

"That  I  do  not  love  him;  that  I  cannot  be  his 
wife!" 

"And  you  have  the  heartlessness  to  make  your  mother 
appear  contemptible!"  The  heretofore-suppressed  pas- 
sion now  vented  itself  mercilessly  on  the  poor  girl. 
"  You  undutiful,  wicked  girl !  Do  you  think  you  can 
carry  your  obstinate  self-will  to  the  extent  of  dragging 
us  all  with  you  into  disgrace  and  poverty?  Then  take 
my  curse,  and  the  hatred  of  your  little  sisters  and 
brothers,  whose  future  you  destroy!  and  may  you  find 
your  just  punishment  in  your  own  and  our  outcast, 
degra'ded  condition!  No,  you  shall  not!  I  will  bend 
your  spirit,  even  if  it  breaks  your  heart!" 

Never  before  had  the  wretched  girl  witnessed  such  a 
terrible  outburst  of  temper.  She  put  her  arms  around 
her  mother's  knees,  and  begged  and  sobbed  for  pardon, 
for  pity.  The  woman  suddenly  ceased  her  angry  tirade, 
and,  taking  her  child  in  her  arms,  said,  with  tears  stream- 
ing from  her  eyes, — 

"  Forgive  your  mother,  my  child.  I  did  not  know 
what  I  was  saying.  Come,  let  us  all  go  out  into  the 
world  together ;  we  have  no  home,  but  we  can  die ;  we 
will  cling  together  in  poverty  and  distress.  Oh,  my 
poor  children !  come,  let  us  go  to  the  river  and  end  this 
unhappy  existence.  My  poor  Augusta,  you  will  forget 
your  mother's  unkind  wrath  ?" 

"  For  God's  sake,  mother,  why  are  you  so  distressed  ? 
What  has  the  general  to  do  with  our  poverty  and 
home?" 

The  mother  seemed  to  hesitate,  then  she  said,  "  I 


UNDER    THE  STORKS'   NEST.  171 

will  tell  you  all ;  then  we  will  go  out  homeless  into  the 
pitying  world,  but  my  daughter  will  still  love  me." 

Touched  by  the  abnegation  and  the  display  of  love 
for  her,  Augusta  listened  while  her  mother  gathered 
facts  and  falsehoods,  forming  a  very  depressing  picture 
of  destitution,  with  the  saving  graciousuess  of  the  gen- 
eral in  the  background. 

"  But,  dear  mother,  I  am  sure  he  will  still  befriend 
us  until  we  can  do  something  for  ourselves.  I  will 
work,  and  we  can  give  up  our  extravagant  mode  of 
living.  Let  me  speak  to  him." 

"  Not  for  the  world  !     He  made  me  promise  that  I  , 
would  not  let  you  into  the  secret  of  our  obligations  to 
him.     Oh,  do  not  humble  me,  my  daughter !" 

Another  scene  of  dissembling  and  weeping,  and  the 
motherly  performance  had  the  desired  result.  Augusta 
promised  everything,  anything;  and  in  the  midst  of 
her  mother's  blessings  and  caresses  she  quietly  fainted. 
For  weeks  her  overtasked  brain  and  suffering  heart  suc- 
cumbed to  the  sacrifice. 

But  the  mother's  ambition  was  satisfied. 

If  she  suspected  the  cause  of  her  daughter's  repug- 
nance to  this  marriage,  she  passed  it  over  in  silence,  but 
watched  with  the  utmost  care  over  her  delicate  heart's 
darling,  to  prevent  a  possible  disclosure  of  the  true 
state  of  her  heart  to  the  unsuspecting  bridegroom, 
knowing  well  that  in  that  case  her  plans  would  be 
unsettled,  since  the  honest,  upright  old  general  would 
have  no  lunwilling  wife,  or  for  one  moment  hold  the 
young  lady  to  an  engagement  made  against  her  will. 


172  UNDER   THE  STORKS'   NEST. 


CHAPTER    XIII. 

OVER  two  years  of  Bernhard's  imprisonment  had 
expired,  and  there  was  no  more  probability  of  his  par- 
don than  there  had  been  the  first  months.  The  sov- 
ereign powers  were  obdurate.  The  decree  had  been 
spoken,  and  not  an  hour  should  be  taken  from  its 
fulfillment. 

Uncle  Thomas  was  frantic.  That  the  revengeful 
Von  Brieloff  was  at  the  bottom  of  this  unusual  inflex- 
ible severity  he  did  not  doubt.  Bernhard  was  not 
suffering  the  penalty  of  having  killed  the  son,  but  to 
gratify  the  father's  hatred  of  Uncle  Thomas.  At  last 
the  unhappy  old  man  conquered  his  own  feelings  of 
abhorrence  sufficiently  to  make  an  endeavor  to  propi- 
tiate his  enemy,  and,  without  saying  aught  of  his  inten- 
tions to  any  one,  gathered  up  certain  documents  and 
presented  himself  before  Von  Brieloff. 

"  Your  pardon,  comrade  of  my  youth  !"  the  latter 
cried,  when  his  guest  was  ushered  into  his  private  apart- 
ment, where  he  reclined  on  an  invalid's  chair,  so  utterly 
changed  from  the  healthy,  robust  man  he  had  seemed 
when  Uncle  Thomas  met  him  last,  that  only  the  glit- 
tering eyes,  with  their  demoniac  expression,  were  recog- 
nizable. "Your  pardon,  that  I  am  unable  to  meet 
you  as  becomes  such  a  rare  guest.  Indeed,  an  honor. 
Pray  be  seated.  How  can  I  serve  you  ?" 

Uncle  Thomas  seated  himself  near  the  man.     His 


UNDER    THE  STORKS'   NEST.  173 

polite  address  was  not  in  keeping  with  the  disdainful 
triumph  which  lit  up  his  emaciated  face:  nevertheless 
Uncle  Thomas  quietly  said, — 

"  Sir,  I  am  astonished  to  find  you  so  changed,  and 
regret  your  illness.  But  you  are  aware  that  friendly 
intercourse  between  us  is  out  of  the  question.  I  came 
to  express  my " 

"  That  is  not  so,  friend  Thomas  !  I  know  why  you 
are  here.  In  fact,  I  have  been  expecting  you.  Ex- 
pressions of  sympathy  for  the  murder  of  my  son  ?  No  ; 
you  came  to  plead  for  the  murderer.  I  am  fully  pre- 
pared to  answer :  no  mercy  for  anything  or  any  one  in 
whose  welfare  you,  Mr.  Thomas,  have  an  interest." 

"You  will  reconsider " 

"  I  will  reconsider  nothing  !  One  thing  I  wish  to 
impress  on  you  :  your  favorite  young  friend  suffers  for 
your  sake, — your  sake  alone.  True,  my  son  lost  his 
life  at  his  hands,  but  it  was  in  honorable  combat,  and 
that  Berndal  escaped  the  fate  himself  was  not  the  fault 
of  my  son ;  consequently,  if  it  were  not  for  my  consid- 
eration for  you,  old  friend,  I  would  cheerfully  forgive 
him.  I  can  strike  you  through  him.  It  gives  me  such 
joy  to  tell  you  this  that  the  tortures  of  hell  will  be  tol- 
erable in  comparison  !  If  you  have  a  disposition  to  use 
the  papers  in  your  possession  to  create  a  scandal,  it  will 
not  affect  me  down  there  !  I  am  well  aware  my  days 
are  numbered.  Apropos,  dear  friend,  what  a  lovely, 
simple  creature  Eva  was!  She  was,  without  excep- 
tion, the  sweetest  little  fool  I  ever  embraced.  If  it  had 
not  been  for  me,  I  expect  she  would  have  been  con- 
demned to  a  long  life  as  the  wife  of  some  sentimental 
plebeian." 


174  UNDER    THE  STORKS'   NEST. 

"  You  are  a  vile  dog !"  cried  Uncle  Thomas,  beside 
himself  with  rage  and  indignation. 

"  One  more  word,  if  you  please,  Mr.  Thomas.  Do 
you  not  think  it  was  an  excessively  foolish  trick  in 
you  to  buy  up  those  forged  notes  of  mine  and  never 
make  the  slightest  use  of  them  against  me?  Very  silly 
— very  silly  indeed !  You  lose  your  money,  and  my 
delighted  heirs  reap  the  benefit/' 

Uncle  Thomas  could  endure  it  no  longer.  His  face 
grew  flaming,  his  blood  boiled.  He  conquered  him- 
self, repressing  a  fearful  oath  with  a  mighty  effort. 
He  said,  "  Your  infirmities  make  you  bold ;  but  "not 
alone  to  your  present  bodily  defects  do  you  owe  your 
worthless  life.  The  earth  would  not  have  been  large 
enough  to  contain  us  living  if  I  had  not  promised  her 
whose  memory  you  would  degrade.  She,  with  her  last 
breath,  prayed  me  to  spare  you,  and  for  her  sake  you 
have  been  left  unmolested  and  undisgraced.  I  came 
with  the  intention  of  leaving  these  documents.  They 
hold  your  character  and  prove  your  worthlessness.  I 
will  not  alter  my  determination  in  regard  to  their  dis- 
posal. Take  them.  She  would  not  have  me  use  them 
against  you !"  Uncle  Thomas  dashed  them  on  the 
floor  at  his  feet  and  left  him. 

Von  Brieloff  rang  the  bell  for  his  servant,  and 
ordered  him  to  give  him  the  papers  and  roll  his  chair 
to  the  fireplace. 

He  read  them  through  carefully,  and  then  destroyed 
them,  exclaiming,  "  The  hot-headed  old  fool !  he  could 
have  changed  my  plans  materially  with  such  a  power 
in  his  hands." 

He  thereupon  added  a  codicil  to  his  will,  reserving 


UNDER    THE  STORKS'   NEST.  175 

certain  estates,  and  stipulating  that  for  every  year  of 
mercy  granted  Bernhard  Berndal  fifty  thousand  dollars 
should  be  taken  from  the  inheritance  and  should  go  to 
the  reserve  estates, — which  were  to  be  given  to  another 
branch  of  the  family  after  a  term  of  years, — at  the 
expiration  of  Berndal's  sentence. 

Uncle  Thomas  returned  home  in  a  pitiable  state  of 
mind,  and,  as  usual,  sought  peace  and  consolation  by 
walking  over  to  Judge  Berndal's. 

There  he  found  the  family  in  commotion,  Mrs. 
Berndal  in  tears,  and  the  judge  indignant. 

"Think  of  it,  dear  friend,  our  Bernhard  has  escaped! 
What  a  disgrace  !  Now  he  will  be  hunted  like  a  con- 
vict, and  be  afraid  to  appear  on  the  face  of  the  earth," 
sobbed  Mrs.  Berndal. 

"  Hurrah !  Thank  the  Lord  !  May  the  devil  get 
me  if  this  is  not  glorious  news !"  exclaimed  Uncle 
Thomas.  "  I  am  so  glad  I've  got  to  sit  down  ;  the  joy 
has  struck  into  my  wooden  peg :  it  is  trembling ;  but 
can  it  be  for  fear  they  will  catch  him  ?  Bless  me !  I 
wonder  where  he  is  ?" 

The  authorities  also  wondered,  and  searched,  and 
offered  tempting  rewards,  but  the  bird  had  flown  as 
if  with  veritable  wings.  The  officer  and  turnkey  had 
locked  him  in  his  cell  as  usual,  but  he  was  not  there  in 
the  morning.  It  was  unaccountable  how  the  escape 
was  managed,  Bernhard  having  refused  to  leave  his 
quarters  for  days  previous,  and  having  complained 
of  feeling  indisposed. 

Search  and  reward  were  alike  ineffectual  to  trace  the 
fugitive's  hiding-place,  and  the  hostile  Von  Brieloff  was 
so  enraged  and  disappointed  that  he  died  with  a  severe 


176  UNDER    THE  STORKS'    NEST. 

stroke  of  apoplexy,  leaving  his  heir  cursing  his  memory 
and  the  codicil  to  his  will. 


Bernhard  was  sitting  alone  with  Augusta.  The  gen- 
eral had  persuaded  him  to  accompany  him  home,  and 
was  shortly  after  called  out  on  business,  leaving  the  two 
friends  gazing  sorrowfully  after  his  retreating  form. 

Bernhard  had  just  informed  her  of  his  father's  fruit- 
less last  appeal  in  his  behalf,  and  she  could  only  respond 
by  looking  the  regret  and  sympathy  she  felt. 

A  long  silence  was  at  last  broken  by  Augusta  ask- 
ing, "  What  are  you  studying  about  so  intently,  Bern- 
hard?" 

"  Freedom,  flight,  and  a  fable." 

Augusta  looked  at  him,  startled  and  indignant. 

"  But,"  he  continued,  "  I  cannot  give  my  attention  to 
the  first  until  I  have  some  interpretation  of  the  last.  I 
am  puzzled  and  troubled  day  and  night." 

"  Tell  me  the  fable." 

"  I  will ;  perhaps  you  can  explain  it.  Once  upon  a 
time  there  was  a  shepherd  and  his  wife ;  they  had  an 
only  child, — a  boy, — whom  they  loved  dearly.  In  the 
country  where  they  lived  there  still  existed  fairies,  and 
the  mother  said,  '  When  our  good  fairy  comes  again  I 
will  ask  her  to  wish  my  boy  a  happy  life.' 

"  It  was  just  as  the  evening  shadows  began  to  fall ; 
the  sun  was  sinking  in  fiery  splendor,  when  from  a 
beautiful  rainbow  arching  the  firmament  the  fairy 
suddenly  stepped  before  the  astonished  parents.  'Call 
your  child,  that  I  may  see  his  face.' 


UNDER    THE  STORKS'    NEST.  177 

"  The  father  went  to  the  pasture  where  the  boy  was 
guarding  the  lambs,  and  brought  him  to  the  fairy, 
who  smoothed  his  curly  hair  with  her  snowy  hand,  and 
said, — 

"  '  Thine  eyes  are  bright ;  soon  comes  the  night. 

What  thou  shalt  lose  is  thine  yet  through  pain  ; 

"What  thou  shalt  win  will  vanish  again. 
Dark  clouds  are  around,  little  sunshine  about ; 
"Where  joy  comes  in,  there  hope  goes  out.' 

"The  frightened  mother  wept,  and  cried,  'Oh,  my 
child  will  never  be  happy  !' 

"  But  the  boy  ran  back  to  the  pasture,  to  the  little 
maiden  who  was  guarding  the  lambs  with  him,  and  told 
her  about  the  wondrous  beauty  of  the  strange  woman, 
her  glittering,  marvelous  face,  and  lovely  eyes ;  (  but 
yours  are  prettier,'  he  said  to  her. 

"  They  grew  in  love  to  one  another,  and  were  happy. 
One  day  they  were  sitting  thus,  guarding  their  flock, 
when  the  boy  pressed  the  girl  to  his  heart,  and  said,  '  I 
love  you.'  And  she  pressed  her  sweet,  rosy  lips  in  con- 
fidence and  trust  to  his,  saying,  '  I  love  you  also,  with 
all  my  heart,  and  will  be  your  true  wife  some  day;  but 
in  the  mean  time  let  us  keep  the  secret  of  our  love,  for 
the  wicked  people  of  earth  will  destroy  it.' 

"So  they  remained  true,  and  still  were  happy;  at 
least  the  boy  was  so." 

Bernhard  paused,  and  Augusta,  sighing  deeply,  as  if 
just  awakened,  asked,  "  Is  the  fable  ended?" 

"  Not  quite.  The  wicked  people  of  earth  discovered 
the  peaceful  state  of  their  hearts,  and  were  envious,  and 
said,  '  What  right  have  they  to  be  happy  ?  Why  shall 
they  be  permitted  to  enjoy  the  pleasures  of  love,  of 


178  UNDER    THE  STORKS'    NEST. 

which  we  know  nothing?'  The  king  and  his  retinue 
happened  to  pass  through  the  village,  and  one  of  the 
high-born  attendants  saw  the  beautiful  maiden,  and 
said  in  his  heart,  '  She  will  grace  my  life  and  home ; 
I  will  have  her  for  my  wife.' 

"  The  maiden  forgot  her  vows,  for  the  spell  created 
by  the  wicked  earth-people  deluded  and  infatuated  her 
senses,  and  filled  her  heart  with  pride  and  vanity. 
She  said,  { I  will  not  be  a  shepherd's  wife ;  I  will  be 
a  grand  lady,  and  will  shine  in  the  society  of  kings 
and  queens.' 

"She  followed  the  fortunes  of  her  rich  spouse  far 
away  into  another  land,  and  lived  in  state  and  honor. 

"  But  the  fairy's  words  were  coming  true :  the  boy's 
eyes  were  bright  no  longer ;  they  were  dim  with  weep- 
ing, and  the  night  of  despair  had  overshadowed  his 
heart.  What  he  had  won  was  lost, — had  vanished 
forever !" 

Augusta  covered  her  face  with  her  trembling  hands 
and  bowed  her  head;  a  sigh  of  anguish  escaped  her  lips. 

Bernhard  continued  :  "  His  soul  was  dark  with  angry 
thoughts  and  bitter  denunciations.  He  said  he  would 
tear  her  memory  from  his  heart  with  contempt  and 
scorn !  He  wandered  from  home,  so  that  none  might 
see  his  sorrow,  disguising  it  with  assumed  harshness 
towards  all,  that  he  might  not  be  forced  to  cry  aloud, 
like  a  grieved  woman,  '  I  have  lost  my  love !'  Go 
where  he  would,  and  try  with  all  his  might,  he  could 
not  tear  her  image  out  of  his  heart. 

"  One  day  he  met  an  enemy  and  slew  him  in  a  con- 
flict, and  he  was  dragged  to  prison,  and  the  governor 
of  that  prison  was  the  husband  of  his  love.  And  when 


UNDER    THE  STORKS'    NEST.  179 

she  saw  him  she  said  to  her  husband,  '  That  is  the 
friend  of  my  youth ;  for  my  sake  have  mercy  on  him, 
and  show  him  consideration,  that  his  prison-life  may 
be  less  severe.  Remove  his  chains  for  my  sake/ 

"  Her  request  was  granted.  They  were  kind  to  him, 
more  kind  than  he  can  bear,  for  the  heaviest  chains  are 
light  in  comparison  with  the  burdensome  sorrow  of  his 
life,  and  of  the  old,  old  memories  that  will  not  die. 

"  His  scorn  was  undeserved  by  her.  She  is  good  and 
happy,  and  he  said,  '  Before  I  leave  I  will  tell  her,  and 
ask  her  to  forgive  me  for  the  heartless  way  she  was 
repulsed  when  she  pleaded  so  tearfully  for  a  hearing 
in  those  cruel  days  before  she  was  wedded.' 

"  Not  long  ago  he  dreamed  the  old  fairy  came  to  his 
bedside.  '  The  king  is  obdurate/  she  said :  '  he  will  not 
pardon ;  yet  you  must  win  what  you  have  lost.'  And 
he  said,  '  If  I  had  a  thousand  lives,  I  would  give  them 
all  for  freedom  from  here ;  but  I  cannot  go  without 
hearing  that  which  I  once  so  angrily  refused  to  hear.' 
Then  the  face  of  the  fairy  changed,  and  the  dear,  true 
face  of  his  love  was  before  him  as  she  had  appeared  the 
last  time  he  saw  her  in  their  youth.  Tears  overflowed  her 
eyes,  and  she  cried,  l  Oh,  hear  me !  let  me  tell  you  all !' 
and  he  sprang  up,  exclaiming,  '  Why  have  you  forsaken 
me?'  Augusta,  will  you  finish  the  prisoner's  fable?" 

Trembling,  her  bosom  fluttering  with  the  internal 
struggle  for  composure,  Augusta  forced  an  attempt  to 
speak,  but,  utterly  overcome,  she  burst  into  an  uncon- 
trollable fit  of  tears  and  sobs. 

Forgetting  everything  but  her  distress,  Bernhard 
rushed  to  her,  grasped  her  hands,  and,  holding  them 
firmly,  excitedly  exclaimed, — 


180  UNDER    THE  STORKS'   NEST. 

"  Gussie,  my  Gussie,  forgive  me !  I  love  you — do  you 
not  know  it? — better  than  my  life,  my  soul!  My  poor 
lost  darling,  do  not  weep.  Gussie,  speak  to  me,  tell  me 
you  forgive  my  cruelty." 

Augusta  composed  herself,  and,  gently  forcing  him 
to  release  her,  she  said,  with  quiet  dignity,  but  not 
angrily,  "You  forget  that  I  am  the  wife  of  another, 
whom  I  have  solemnly  promised  to  honor." 

As  if  suddenly  recalled  from  heavenly  bliss,  his  eyes 
lost  their  momentary  brilliance;  his  arms  fell  at  his 
side,  and,  staggering  rather  than  walking  across  the 
room,  he  grasped  his  hat  and  turned  to  leave. 

"True!  My  God!  that  I  could  forget  it  even  for  an 
instant !"  he  said,  hoarsely. 

She  hastened  after  him,  and,  placing  her  hand  on  his 
arm,  detained  him:  "Would  you  leave  me  again  with- 
out hearing  what  I  have  to  say  ?" 

She  took  his  hand  and  led  him  to  a  seat  beside  her, 
and,  with  her  hand  resting  in  his  own,  she  related  the 
story  of  her  marriage. 

"  Oh,  Bernhard,  what  could  I  do  ?  If  you  had  lis- 
tened to  me  then,  this  painful  scene  would  not  have 
occurred.  You  would  have  forgiven  me." 

"I  have  nothing  to  forgive,  Augusta;  you  were  de- 
ceived and  shamefully  beguiled;  and  I  added  to  your 
misery.  Oh,  say  you  will  forget  my  conduct,  Augusta, 
and  forgive  me!" 

"With  all  my  heart.  We  were  both  so  young  and 
inexperienced." 

"You  are  an  angel!"  Bernhard  exclaimed,  pressing 
her  hand  to  his  lips  respectfully;  "and  I  thank  you  for 
your  confidence;  it  has  removed  a  heavy  weight  from 


UNDER    THE  STORKS'   NEST.  181 

my  heart.  What  your  feelings  may  be  towards  me  is 
not  my  right  to  know;  but  I  honor  and  worship  you 
to-day  with  the  same  depth  of  affection  that  I  enter- 
tained towards  you  when  a  boy,  as  I  shall  love  you 
into  all  eternity.  This  confession  pardon  also,  for  the 
moment  of  parting  has  come, — forever  in  this  life.". 

"What  do  you  mean?  What  terrible  thing  do  you 
meditate?" 

"I  meditate  flight  and  freedom.  The  commandant 
will  receive  notice  to-day  that  I  retract  my  parole  of 
honor.  I  return  to  my  cell,  not  to  leave  it  again  until 
I  leave  it  for  all  time." 

"  You  will  attempt  an  impossibility." 

"  And  yet  I  shall  attempt  it,  if  it  cost  me  my  life. 
Do  I  not  tell  you  that  I  love  you,  and  you  are  the  wife 
of  another?  After  such  a  confession  can  I  return 
here  ?  God  help  me,  no !  It  would  be  the  vilest 
treason  towards  the  man  that  is  my  friend,  whom  I  am 
forced  to  esteem  because  of  his  intrinsic  worth  and  pure 
character.  For  his  sake,  for  yours,  for  mine,  we  will 
part,  we  must  say  farewell." 

The  bowed  head  rested  on  the  heaving  bosom ;  Au- 
gusta's breath  came  quick  and  short ;  then,  rising,  with 
a  passionate  motion  she  held  out  her  arms,  crying, 
"  Yes,  you  must  leave !  Oh,  Beruhard,  I  also  love 
you  !  love  you  !" 

One  moment  he  held  her  close  to  his  heart;  the  next 
he  was  gone,  bearing  with  him  such  a  light  and  happy 
soul :  she  loved  him  ! 

His  prison  and  his  narrow  cell  were  illuminated  with 
the  excess  of  his  happiness.  She  loved  him  !  he  asked 
no  more. 

16 


182  UNDER   THE  STORKS'   NEST. 


CHAPTEE     XIY. 

MONTHS  passed,  and  Bernhard  still  occupied  his 
prison-quarters.  Every  plan  had  proved  unavailing; 
still,  night  and  day  he  had  but  one  thought  in  view, 
— escape. 

The  brief  time  granted  him  now  to  exercise  or  walk 
in  the  inclosure  gave  him  little  opportunity  to  study 
outside  aid.  He  was  walking  as  usual  one  day  through 
the  long  hall  leading  to  the  jail-keeper's  door,  when 
he  was  surprised  to  see  a  woman  motioning  to  him  to 
approach,  at  the  same  time  placing  her  finger  on  her 
mouth  to  warn  him  not  to  speak. 

It  was  Hannah,  a  girl  he  had  often  noticed  in  the 
general's  house,  a  servant  of  Augusta's,  and  the 
daughter  of  the  jailer. 

As  he  came  to  the  door  she  closed  it,  leaving  only  a 
small  crevice,  through  which  she  whispered,  "  Go  to 
your  room ;  I  will  speak  to  you  there." 

That  she  came  with  a  message  from  Augusta,  and 
that  it  would  prove  of  importance,  he  did  not  doubt. 

He  had  barely  entered  his  cell  when  Hannah  made 
her  appearance. 

"  I  know  what  you  are  thinking  about,  doctor.  I 
have  promised  a  kind  friend  of  yours  to  aid  you. 
Please  ask  no  questions  who  the  person  may  be.  I 
have  sworn  never  to  disclose  the  name,  and  will  not. 
My  father  is  sick ;  I  have  permission  to  stay  and  nurse 


UNDER    THE  STORKS'   NEST.  J83 

him.  What  can  be  done  to  assist  your  flight  must  be 
done  soon.  God  willing,  to-morrow  !" 

In  a  few  hasty  words  she  unfolded  a  plan  that  seemed 
feasible,  and  then  left  the  cell. 

That  evening  Bernhard  complained  of  feeling  un- 
well ;  and  after  the  sleepless,  exciting  night  that  fol- 
lowed, thinking  of  a  possible  recapture,  or  of  the 
freedom  that  seemed  at  last  about  to  be  attained,  plan- 
ning and  studying  out  his  future  course  if  escape 
should  prove  successful,  in  the  morning  there  was  no 
occasion  to  make  a  pretense  of  illness.  The  physician 
resident  in  the  fortress  was  called,  and  said  the  patient 
was  threatened  with  congestion  of  the  brain. 

When  the  officer  on  duty  made  his  last  rounds, 
Bernhard  was  wrapped  to  his  chin  in  the  bedclothes, 
and  his  person  was  covered  with  a  suit  of  black, 
even  to  the  thick  woolen  socks  that  were  drawn  over 
his  boots. 

The  officer  on  duty  happened  to  be  a  young  man 
noted  for  his  remarkable  want  of  those  attributes  of 
mind  that  are  necessary  to  make  a  man  use  his  wits 
to  the  best  advantage.  And  when  his  companions 
shrugged  their  shoulders  behind  his  back,  and  said  his 
flashes  of  wit  were  not  dangerous  to  his  longevity,  they 
did  him  no  great  injustice. 

He  boasted  of  his  hatred  of  all  womankind :  partic- 
ularly did  he  dislike  and  avoid  all  pretty  servant-girls; 
and  when  he  did  meet  them  in  out-of-the-way  corners, 
it  was  only  to  show  his  utter  detestation  of  the  whole 
race.  The  girls  all  trembled  at  the  approach  of  this 
terrible  ogre, — even  pretty  Hannah,  towards  whom  he 
harbored  an  especial  hate.  On  this  particular  evening 


184  UNDER   THE  STORKS'    NEST. 

he  was  surprised  and  inflamed  with  anger  to  see  the 
pretty  girl  cross  his  path  with  a  friendly  smile,  but 
he  conquered  his  hate  sufficiently  to  listen  while  she 
told  him  of  her  probable  stay  for  a  few  days  on  account 
of  her  father's  illness.  Boiling  with  aversion,  he  was 
forced  to  attend  to  innumerable  things  in  the  vicinity 
of  the  jailer's  rooms  before  it  was  time  to  make  the  last 
tour  of  inspection  through  the  prison.  Then,  entirely 
forgetting  his  assistant's  sickness,  he  walked  into  the 
room  with  his  lantern  when  the  hour  arrived,  and 
would  have  withdrawn  to  return  to  the  guard-room  and 
order  one  of  the  other  turnkeys  to  accompany  him, 
— perhaps, — but  innocent  Hannah  thought  it  her  duty 
to  take  her  father's  place  this  once,  and  shyly  suggested 
this  to  him,  assuring  him  that  she  was  familiar  with  the 
use  of  the  keys  and  the  construction  of  the  different 
locks. 

The  man's  rage  knew  no  bounds.  Still,  he  sub- 
mitted. Hannah's  sister,  a  large,  masculine  female,  rose, 
and  took  the  bunch  of  keys  hanging  on  the  wall,  and 
ordered  her  young  sister  to  put  on  a  pair  of  wooden 
shoes  over  her  own. 

"It  is  damp  and  drafty  in  those  corridors,"  she  said 
to  the  officer,  "  and  Hannah  is  not  strong  like  one  of 
us ;  the  general's  wife  has  spoiled  her." 

Hannah  was  a  very  pretty  picture,  as  she  stood  there 
with  the  lantern  in  one  hand  and  the  bunch  of  keys  in 
the  other,  her  laughing,  roguish  face  flushed,  her  chin 
and  cheeks  dimpling  with  health,  her  eyes  sparkling  so 
brightly  that  the  woman-hater  wanted  to  crush  her  then 
and  there.  But  he  was  a  man  of  great  character  and 
principle,  and  he  again  conquered  his  overwhelming 


UNDER    THE  STORKS'   NEST.  185 

inclination  to  crush  the  blooming  little  chambermaid. 
He  made  it  a  point  never  to  display  his  dislike  for  any 
one  of  the  sex  in  the  presence  of  a  third  party.  This 
was  also  a  matter  of  principle  with  him  ;  and  when 
Hannah  said,  with  a  bewitching  courtesy,  "At  your 
service !"  he  thought,  "  Wait,  you  formidable  female, 
until  I  get  you  alone !"  and  in  the  first  shady  corner 
of  the  corridor  beyond  the  door  he  slyly  placed  his  arm 
around  her  slender  waist,  and  whispered  in  her  pretty 
little  pink  ear,  "  You — you  dearest,  sweetest  creature, 
bless  me  with  one  kiss, — -just  one,  my  pretty  !" 

The  unprotected  little  innocent  looked  at  the  terrible 
ogre,  shocked  and  surprised,  while  she  removed  herself 
from  the  reach  of  his  arm.  "  Why,  you  awful  man  !" 
she  said ;  but  he  cunningly  contrived  to  encircle  the 
hated  being  again,  pleading,  "  Oh,  Hannah,  cruel  Han- 
nah, just  one  kiss !" 

"  For  shame,  you  bad  man !  Suppose  some  one  is 
looking?" 

"No  danger,"  replied  the  brave  soldier  of  his 
majesty ;  "  I  have  taken  the  precaution  necessary  to 
enjoy  an  uninterrupted  moment  of  bliss  with  you :  the 
guards  are  all  in  the  room,  toasting  their  cold  toes  by 
the  fire.  Ah,  you  pretty  sweet,  I  was  not  born  yes- 
terday !" 

Hannah's  eyes  danced  with  delight  at  having  such  a 
far-seeing  gallant,  such  a  devoted  lover ;  and  she  has- 
tened on  with  her  duties  until  they  came  to  Bernhard's 
door. 

She  opened  it,  and  swung  the  lantern  over  her  head 
so  that  the  light  would  fall  upon  the  prisoner.  The 
officer  entered  the  cell  and  addressed  Bernhard : 

16* 


186  UNDER    THE  STORKS'    NEST. 

"  Understand  you  are  ill,  doctor ;  too  bad,  really ; 
hope  it  is  nothing  serious  ?" 

"  Oh,  I  am  suffering  terribly !"  replied  Bernhard ; 
"  have  taken  a  dose  that  is  driving  the  perspiration  out 
of  every  pore  in  rny  body ;  trust  it  will  bring  relief  by 
morning." 

"  Don't  envy  you,  really.  Russian  baths  not  to  my 
taste.  Something  better  on  hand.  Good-night,  doctor." 

Hannah  waved  the  lantern  over  her  head  again,  and 
said,  "Ready?"  The  officer  turned  with  a  charming 
smile,  and  replied,  "  Yes,"  and  followed  her  out  of  the 
cell. 

A  dark  object  crept  noiselessly  after  them,  taking 
refuge  in  the  shadow  behind  Hannah,  as  she  held  the 
lantern  high  up  so  that  the  light  would  fall  in  the  offi- 
cer's face,  while  she  looked  at  him  at  the  same  time  with 
an  inviting  smile  on  her  lip  that  the  defender  of  his 
highness  the  king  could  not  resist.  Quickly  turning 
the  key  in  the  lock,  he  seized  the  odious  waiting-maid, 
crushing  her  in  his  embrace  so  suddenly  that  she  let  the 
lantern  fall  with  a  crash,  extinguishing  the  light,  and 
leaving  them  in  total  darkness. 

"  Thunderation  !"  exclaimed  the  soldier. 

"Oh,  how  could  you  frighten  me  so?"  cried  the 
girl.  "  Whist !  you  awful  man,  and  stand  here  quietly 
while  I  run  and  get  another  light." 

Directly  he  heard  her  wooden-shod  tread  receding 
towards  her  father's  apartments. 

But  he  did  not  hear  the  muffled  footstep  at  her  side, 
or  see  her  unlock  a  door  going  into  her  father's  lumber- 
room  and  relock  it  on  the  dark  object  that  had  entered 
it.  In  a  moment  she  was  beside  her  adorer  again  with 


UNDER  .THE  STORKS'   NEST. 

another  lantern,  and  the  brave  officer  was  not  to  be 
cheated  now.  "  You  must  be  punished  ;  you  must,  in- 
deed/' said  he ;  and  right  mercilessly  he  pressed  several 
hasty  kisses  on  her  rosy  mouth. 

Hannah  was  not  naturally  a  frivolous  girl,  and  not 
entirely  without  a  tolerable  Yegard  for  truth.  Still, 
when  she  returned  to  her  father's  room  and  was  ques- 
tioned in  regard  to  her  flushed  appearance,  she  said  it 
was  in  consequence  of  the  exciting  visits  to  the  pris- 
oners ;  but  why  the  excitement  affected  only  one  cheek 
was  not  explained. 

Half  an  hour  later,  when  the  officer  was  sitting  in  the 
guard-room,  Hannah  came  rushing  in,  pale  and  alarmed. 

"  Oh,  my  poor  father  is  worse,  and  the  doctor  is  in 
town.  Will  you  see  that  my  sister  is  passed  through 
the  outer  portals?  They  are  already  locked  for  the 
night.  She  must  go  and  bring  the  absent  physician 
immediately  !"  cried  Hannah. 

"  Certainly,  my  sweet,"  said  the  officer ;  "  but  if 
your  father  is  in  danger,  why  not  call  Dr.  Berndal  in 
the  mean  time  ?" 

"  Oh,  he  is  sick  himself.  Don't  you  remember  he 
said  he  was  taking  a  sweat  ?" 

"  So  he  did ;  I  had  forgotten." 

He  instantly  gave  orders  to  pass  the  sister  beyond  the 
outer  guard  posts. 

Early  the  following  morning,  accompanied  by  a  turn- 
key, he  made  the  rounds,  and  found  to  his  consternation 
that  the  sick  Dr.  Berndal  had  vanished. 

"That  perspiring  dose  has  been  too  much  for  the 
poor  man  !"  Hannah  remarked,  with  a  sorrowful  coun- 
tenance, to  the  officer. 


188  UNDER   THE  STORKS'   NEST. 

The  sister  had  returned,  in  company  with  the  doctor, 
within  half  an  hour  after  she  set  out  for  him.  One 
thing,  however,  escaped  observation:  the  woman  had 
left  the  fortress  twice  within  the  hour, — the  first  time 
before  the  relief  guards  came  on, — and  had  returned 
only  once,  and  then  in  the  company  of  the  physician. 

The  father  was  better,  and  during  the  remainder  of 
the  night  the  two  loving  daughters  sat  watching  at  the 
bedside  of  the  soundly  slumbering  man,  who  could 
not  imagine  what  occasioned  the  sudden  and  needless 
devotion,  having  experienced  no  such  sudden  sinking  as 
Hannah  thought  she  had  perceived. 

It  is  plain  to  be  seen  that  the  plan  of  escape  origi- 
nated entirely  in  the  cunning  brain  of  a  woman.  Han- 
nah required  months  to  bring  the  web  to  perfection,  to 
observe  conditions,  study  situations  and  persons,  and 
clutch  the  combinations  at  the  right  moment,  assured  of 
success.  She  trusted  in  the  notorious  reputation  for 
dislike  towards  all  womankind  borne  by  the  man  she 
had  selected  as  the  instrument  necessary  to  the  com- 
pletion of  her  scheme. 

When  she  told  Bernhard  that  a  friend  of  his  had 
sent  her  to  aid  him,  she  wished  him  to  think  that 
her  mistress  was  the  person  in  question,  simply  to  fur- 
ther her  plan,  and  that  she  might  not  meet  with  any 
opposition  from  him,  and  also  to  apply  to  his  sore  heart 
a  little  womanly  balm  concocted  wholly  in  that  sympa- 
thizing heart  of  hers.  She  possessed  a  very  keen  pair 
of  eyes  and  a  very  sharp  pair  of  ears.  And  she  also 
loved  her  kind  mistress  devotedly,  but  she  had  her  own 
opinion — as  girls  in  her  position  will  have — regarding 
the  melancholy,  handsome  young  doctor  and  that  lady. 


UNDER    THE  STORKS'    NEST.  189 

Her  active  little  brain  reveled  in  the  most  extravagant 
fancies,  and  she  espoused  their  cause  enthusiastically, 
without  daring  to  exhibit  the  hearty  interest  she  felt  in 
their  affairs. 

It  was  by  the  merest  accident  that  she  overheard  the 
conversation  between  the  two  during  that  last  trying 
meeting.  The  story  of  their  unhappy  love  brought  the 
tears  to  her  eyes,  and  excited  an  interest  and  admiration 
in  her  soul  for  the  unselfish,  honorable  lovers  which 
reached  its  highest  bounds  when  the  touching  farewell 
was  spoken.  The  tender-hearted  Hannah  came  near 
betraying  her  propinquity  by  the  convulsive  cry  that 
she  managed  to  smother  in  time  to  avoid  disturbing  in 
a  rude  and  unexpected  manner  their  eternal  separation. 
She  resolved  then  and  there  that  the  wretchedly-cheated 
young  man  should  escape. 

Her  duties  as  waiting-  and  chambermaid  gave  her  an 
opportunity  to  secure  a  passport  from  among  the  papers 
of  a  relative  visiting  the  commandant  for  a  few  days. 
As  the  gentleman  was  traveling  in  an  opposite  direction, 
it  chanced  the  pass  was  not  in  immediate  demand. "  The 
description  answered  to  both  parties,  unless  subjected  to 
unusual  scrutiny,  the  height  and  complexion  of  both 
being  the  same. 

Hannah  planned,  and  succeeded,  as  we  are  aware,  and 
the  hundred  solid  dollars  Bernhard  left  in  his  overcoat- 
pocket  in  Hannah's  care  found  their  way  into  the  hard, 
masculine  palm  of  Hannah's  sister.  What  the  girl 
herself  accomplished  she  did  out  of  pure  sympathy; 
her  reward  was  in  the  satisfaction  she  carried  in  her 
romantic  little  heart  that  she  had  contributed  to  the 
happiness  of  two  unfortunate  lovers. 


190  UNDER    THE  STORKS'    NEST. 

If  the  unapproachable  yet  gentle  dignity  that  char- 
acterized her  mistress  had  only  permitted  the  familiar- 
ity of  confiding  to  her  what  she  had  done,  and  also  the 
probable  whereabouts  of  the  doctor,  the  girl  would 
have  asked  no  more  When  the  news  of  Bernhard's 
escape  was  brought  her,  Augusta  was  puzzled,  as  was 
every  one  else,  as  to  how  he  had  effected  it. 

Bernhard  reached  Paris  in  safety,  and  destroyed  his 
passport,  thus  disposing  of  the  only  clue  by  which 
could  be  traced  any  assistant  in  his  flight. 


CHAPTER    XV. 

CHRISTMAS-EVE  in  the  city !  All  is  hurry  and  bustle 
in  the  streets ;  women  with  baskets  and  bundles  and 
packages  push  and  elbow  one  another ;  men  with  coat- 
collars  drawn  over  neck  and  ears  are  loaded  with  in- 
numerable parcels,  their  pockets  standing  out  like 
well-filled  panniers  from  the  cramming  they  have  been 
subjected  to. 

At  home,  wives  and  mothers  are  collecting  together 
the  articles  that  have  been  hidden  in  all  sorts  of  corners 
and  out-of-the-way  spots,  where  the  one  for  whom  they 
are  intended  would  not  be  likely  to  spy  them  until  the 
time  arrived  for  the  presentation. 

Here  we  find  parents  in  whispered  consultation  about 
the  importance  of  Christmas-gift  arrangements  for  the 
little  ones,  who  have  been  ordered  to  some  remote  apart- 


UNDER    THE  STORKS'   NEST.  191 

ment  in  the  mean  time,  and  are  also  whispering  and  dis- 
playing the  gifts  so  soon  to  surprise  their  parents. 

In  the  back  parlor  of  another  house  a  group  of  chil- 
dren are  impatiently  watching  the  doors  that  hide  from 
them  the  mother  and  that  great  Christmas-tree  they 
have  managed  to  get  a  glimpse  of  in  the  course  of 
preparation.  One  wee  "  tot"  tip-toes  softly  towards 
the  crevice  between  the  doors,  and  stands  peeping  with 
all  her  might,  without  being  able  to  discern  anything, 
while  an  older  sister  indignantly  cries,  "  Oh,  you 
naughty  girl,  I'll  tell  on  you !  You  won't  get  any- 
thing, I  know !" 

The  "tot"  replies,  indifferent  and  confident,  "Yes, 
I  will.  I  am  not  bad  ;  I  didn't  see  anything." 

Everywhere  there  is  joy  for  the  children  to-night. 
Where  there  is  not  abundance,  the  little  one  is  as 
rejoiced  over  a  miserable,  inexpensive  little  woolen 
lamb,  with  legs  as  frail  and  thin  as  lucifer-matches. 
and  is  as  grateful  to  the  "Christ-child"  who  is  sup- 
posed to  have  brought  it,  as  are  the  children  in  that 
beautiful  house  with  its  grand  tree  and  costly  toys. 

Who  can  that  old  man  be,  hastening  down  the  street? 
His  footsteps  are  as  light  and  free  as  if  he  carried 
air  in  his  bosom  instead  of  the  sluggish  blood  of  old 
age. 

It  is  the  letter-carrier,  and  he  is  speeding  to  take 
good  news  to  the  gable-roofed  house,  where  he  has  de- 
livered so  many  letters  for  years  and  years. 

"  It  will  be  such  a  joy  for  them !  such  a  joy !"  he 
exclaims,  his  face  radiant  with  good  will. 

The  blinds  were  closed,  but  within  all  was  light  and 
cheer.  Mrs.  Berndal  stood  surveying  a  monster  tree 


192  UNDER   THE  STORKS'   NEST. 

loaded  down  with  toys  and  ornaments ;  on  the  white 
cover  that  was  spread  over  the  large  table  in  the  centre 
of  which  stood  the  tree,  were  arranged  a  number  of 
plates,  each  containing  cakes,  nuts,  and  confections,  be- 
side which  were  packages  each  marked  with  the  name 
of  its  intended  recipient.  Suddenly  she  remembered 
something  that  was  yet  hidden,  and  left  the  room  to 
secure  it. 

A  ring  at  the  door-bell  just  then  called  the  judge's 
attention.  He  placed  the  cane — to  the  end  of  which 
he  had  been  tying  a  wax  taper,  wherewith  to  light 
those  out  of  arm's  reach  on  the  tree — on  the  table,  and 
went  to  the  door. 

"  A  letter  for  you,  judge.  A  letter — from  the  young 
doctor — from  Paris !"  stuttered  the  delightedly  excited 
old  man. 

"  From  my  son  ?"  asked  the  astonished  and  doubting 
man,  taking  it  and  glancing  at  the  superscription. 

"  Yes,  from  him ;  I  know  the  writing  well.  God 
bless  you,  judge  !  God  bless  you  and  your  good  lady  ! 
A  merry  Christmas  I  wish  you,  judge,  with  all  my 
heart !  May  it  bring  you  joy  and  peace  !" 

The  good  soul  pocketed  his  Christmas-gift,  and  went 
away  muttering,  "  Good  people !  I  hope  it  will  give 
them  peace !" 

The  judge  tore  the  letter  open,  and  read, — 

"  Dear  father,  dear,  dear  mother, — I  arrived — 

He  heard  his  wife  coming,  and  quickly  folded  it 
together  and  placed  it  in  a  large  parcel  on  the  table. 

"  The  tree  not  lighted !  How  long  will  that  poor  child 
have  to  wait  yet  ?"  she  exclaimed. 

"  Only  a  moment,  Lottie ;    I   was  detained  at  the 


UNDER    THE  STORKS'   NEST.  193 

door.     You  can  light  the  lower  tapers  while  I  attend 
to  the  others." 

The  door  was  thrown  wide  open,  and  a  little  fellow 
was  pushed  into  the  room  by  his  mother.  Astounded 
by  all  this  glitter  and  display,  he  stood  with  his  finger 
in  his  mouth,  looking  timidly  at  a  large  rocking-horse, 
a  drum,  and  other  wonderful  things  to  which  his  atten- 
tion was  directed  by  his  mother,  who  wondered  why 
the  boy  did  not  scream  for  joy. 

"Santa  Glaus  has  brought  you  all  these,  August; 
why  do  you  not  look  at  them,  and  play  with  them,  you 
queer  child  ?" 

"Never  mind  him,  Matilda,"  said  grandma;  "he 
will  wake  up  by-and-by." 

Then  all  the  members  of  the  family  took  possession 
of  their  packages,  and  amidst  exclamations  of  pleased 
surprise  they  turned  to  Mrs.  Berndal. 

Bafore  her  lay  a  beautiful  fur  set.  In  the  large  muff 
she  placed  her  hand,  expressing  her  gratification,  as 
she  did  so,  for  the  welcome  present,  and  came  in  contact 
with  a  paper ;  drawing  it  out,  she  saw  it  was  a  letter. 
She  stepped  closer  to  the  light, — opened  it,  and  gave 
a  glad  cry.  "From  Bernhard !  a  letter  from  my  boy!" 

They  all  pressed  around  her  in  joyous  anticipation  of 
at  last  hearing  from  that  runaway. 

Overcome,  the  mother  seated  herself  and  began  to 
read, — 

"  Dear  father,  dear,  dear  mother, — I  arrived  safely 
in  Paris- 
She  could  get  no  farther:  the  tears  blinded  her  sight; 
wipe  them  away  as  she  would,  they  welled  up  again  so 
fast  she  could  not  read. 

i  17 


194  UNDER    THE  STORKS'    NEST. 

Can  any  one  but  a  mother  understand  and  realize 
how  her  heart  also  overflowed  with  unutterable  glad- 
ness? how  her  soul  was  uplifted  in  gratitude  to 
Him? 

All  the  others  wept  with  her;  the  only  eyes  that 
did  not  glisten  with  tears  were  those  of  little  Gus, 
who  watched  intently  the  emotions  of  grandma,  and 
when  she  said  Paris,  bestrode  his  steed  like  one  wild, 
whipping  away  with  that  splendid  new  whip,  and 
shouting,  "  To  Paris !  away,  horse !  away !  to  Paris, 
for  grandma !" 

Uncle  Thomas  did  not  know  that  he  also  was  in- 
dulging in  what  he  considered  "feminine  weakness," 
until,  the  briny  fluid  rolling  over  his  face  and  lips, 
the  unusual  taste  made  him  pass  his  hand  across  his 
mouth  and  look  around  in  trepidation  ;  then,  assuring 
himself  that  the  others  were  too  much  occupied  with 
their  own  feelings,  he  limped  out  into  the  open  air, 
where  he  could  give  way  to  his  emotions,  and  subdue 
them  in  his  own  fashion. 

Standing  in  the  darkness,  alone,  he  reverently  folded 
his  hands,  and,  looking  up  into  the  free  air  of  heaven, 
he  said, — 

"  May  I  be  struck  by  the  tempest,  you  good  God  up 
there,  if  I  don't  thank  you  on  my  knees  for  taking  this 
awful  burden  out  of  my  bosom  !  I  hope  the  devil  will 
get  me  if  I  ever  forget  to  thank  you  day  and  night 
that  the  boy  doesn't  have  to  suffer  all  his  life  on  my 
account,  and  spend  his  best  days  in  that  damned  hole ! 
You  good  God  up  there,  hear  me!  I  thank  you !" 

He  stood  a  moment  in  reverent  silence;  then,  draw- 
ing his  silk  handkerchief  out  of  his  pocket,  he  wiped 


UNDER    THE  STORKS'    NEST.  195 

his  eyes  and  blew  his  nose,  and,  feeling  himself  master 
of  the  situation  once  more,  he  returned  to  the  house 
to  hear  the  rest  of  the  letter. 

Gus  and  his  noble  steed  had  been  to  Paris  and  back 
for  dear  grandma,  and  while  the  tired  horse  was  taking 
a  rest  the  little  fellow  was  investigating  his  other 
treasures;  grandma  buckled  on  his  sword  for  him, 
and,  as  soldier,  drummer,  and  mounted  brigand  com- 
bined, the  hero  at  last  surrendered  to  the  invisible  con- 
queror— sleep.  Sitting  on  the  sofa  between  mother  and 
grandmother,  he  winked  and  blinked  at  the  enemy  a 
little  while,  then  succumbed  without  further  struggle. 

Many  years  had  come  and  gone  since  his  first  ride  to 
Paris,  and  frequent  rides  had  he  taken  since,  to  bring 
or  deliver  messages  from  Uncle  Bernhard,  when  one 
day  the  faithful  animal,  yielding  to  feebleness  and  old 
age,  fell,  to  rise  no  more,  beneath  the  ponderous  weight 
of  his  master. 

Time  passes  rapidly  in  a  house  where  there  are 
children.  It  is  not  computed  according  to  the  dates 
of  month  or  year  as  given  in  the  almanac.  When 
mothers  or  grandmothers  wish  to  refer  to  some  event 
in  the  past,  their  memory  carries  them  into  the  nur- 
sery, and  they  calculate  from  the  time  Maria  had  the 
measles  or  Betty  cut  her  first  tooth,  or  so  many  days 
after  Johnny  had  his  first  pantaloons. 

So  the  time  was  noted  in  the  gable-roofed  house 
after  the  arrival  of  little  August. 

At  the  age  of  ten  years  he  was  the  pride  and  torment 
of  the  household.  Overflowing  with  health  and  the 
restless  spirit  of  boyish  enterprise,  his  clothes  and  ap- 
pearance gave  hourly  evidence  of  it, — one  moment  a 


196  UNDER    THE  STORKS'    NEST. 

terrific  rent  in  his  trousers,  the  next,  a  torn  pocket ; 
even  his  boots,  that  refused  to  follow  the  path  prescribed 
for  his  feet,  had  a  habit  of  going  awry.  No  matter  how 
neatly  mother  Matilda  arranged  his  shirt-collar  one 
moment,  the  next,  as  if  by  magic,  the  obstinate  bit  of 
linen  presented  an  oblique  front. 

No  sooner  was  the  comb  out  of  his  mother's  hand 
than  his  hair  stood  out  again  in  rebellious  protest,  re- 
fusing to  be  imprisoned  by  the  soft  little  cap  placed 
properly  on  his  head  a  dozen  times  a  day. 

If,  perchance,  he  entered  the  house  with  trousers 
legs  down,  and  not,  as  usual,  one  trying  forcibly  to 
enter  his  boot-top,  there  was  sure  to  be  some  distracting 
complaint :  "  Ma,  that  stupid  nail  caught  my  jacket !" 
"  Ma,  the  limb  of  that  hateful  old  tree  burst  my 
trousers  !"  "  Ma,  please  brush  me ;  Hans  pushed  me 
out  of  the  barn." 

As  he  comes  in  from  play  with  bloody  nose  and 
bruised  face,  the  mother,  frightened  out  of  her  wits, 
cries,  "  What  have  you  been  doing  ?" 

"  Nothing,  ma ;  me  and  Johnny  So-and-so  were  only 
fooling." 

Mother  Matilda  clasps  her  hands  in  perplexed  dis- 
tress :  "  Oh,  was  there  ever  such  another  wild,  incorri- 
gible child?" 

Grandma's  memory  reverts  to  similar  incidents  in 
the  history  of  her  boys,  Bernhard  and  Albert,  and 
while  she  consoles  the  mother  with  recitals  of  what 
appear  to  be  hereditary  failings,  the  bloody  nose,  and 
the  torn  trousers  and  jacket,  disappear. 

Another  source  of  trouble  to  his  mother  was  the 
strange  and  unaccountable  manner  in  which  his  hand- 


UNDER    THE  STORKS'    NEST.  197 

kerchiefs  vanished.  She  sewed  one  corner  firmly  to  his 
pocket,  yet  the  boy  was  never  known  to  have  such  an 
article  about  him.  But  taken  from  temptation  and 
evil  influences,  and  placed  under  the  soothing  power  of 
tired  nature,  between  the  covers  of  his  little  bed,  he  was 
a  very  good  little  fellow.  Intellectually,  he  also  gave 
great  promise  at  this  age,  and  could  inform  you  that  the 
"  earth  was  round,  and  the  lion  was  a  noble  animal," — 
in  the  original,  "terra  est  rotunda,  leo  est,"  etc. 

As  her  boy  grew  in  strength  and  beauty,  the  mother 
failed.  One  by  one  the  earth  lost  its  charms  as  health 
gradually  gave  way  to  the  destroyer.  When  the  family 
ceased  to  hope  for  her  improvement,  she  only  expressed 
one  more  wish  in  life, — to  see  her  brother ;  she  longed  for 
one  more  sight  of  Bern  hard. 

He  was  still  in  Paris,  and  employed,  as  he  lacked 
neither  opportunity,  will,  nor  knowledge  to  occupy  his 
time  advantageously. 

The  restrictions  of  his  disguise  fretted  him  sorely. 
He  was  homesick !  This  is  not  a  sickness  to  be  con- 
quered by  medicines  or  the  strongest  power  of  will. 

He  was  homesick ;  he  must  have  change,  anything 
but  this  dull  gnawing,  that  began  to  destroy  every 
thought  and  action  with  its  yearning  for  home,  mother, 
friends. 

One  day  he  found  himself  in  the  glorious  valley  of 
his  native  place,  every  sense  jubilant  as  the  familiar 
scenes  passed  swiftly  before  him. 

After  awhile  the  carriage  halted  before  the  dear  old 
home,  the  silver  light  of  the  moon  falling  on  the  gable- 
roof  as  peacefully  as  if  the  hearts  beneath  it  had  not 
been  torn  and  worn  with  grief  and  loss. 

17* 


198  UNDER    THE  STORKS'   NEST. 

On  the  steps  was  seated  a  figure,  leaning  quietly 
against  the  door.  It  was  Mina,  the  trusty  old  house- 
girl. 

Albert  jumped  out  of  the  carriage.  "Mina,  are  the 
folks  all  at  home  ?" 

"  Yes,  Mr.  Albert." 

"  Are  they  alone  ?     Is  Uncle  Thomas  with  them  ?" 

"  No ;  they  are  quite  alone." 

Bernhard  leaped  out  of  the  carriage  and  entered 
the  house. 

Albert  called  Mina  aside  and  said,  "  Lock  every  door, 
and  if  any  one  calls,  say  that  your  mistress  and  master 
are  engaged.  You  understand?" 

Unobserved,  Bernhard  softly  opened  the  door  of  the 
sitting-room.  His  parents  were  seated  before  a  little 
table,  playing  chess.  His  mother  had  evidently  made 
a  successful  move,  for  she  said,  smiling  at  her  husband, 
who  sat  with  his  back  towards  the  door,  "  That  was 
your  own  fault.  Where  are  your  thoughts  to-night, 
father?" 

Looking  up  and  seeing  a  stranger  in  the  door,  she 
rose  to  greet  him,  when  the  tremulous  word  "  Mother  !" 
fell  on  her  ears,  and  with  a  cry  of  "Bernhard,  my  son !" 
they  were  locked  in  each  other's  arms.  Her  mother- 
heart  was  not  deceived  by  his  changed  appearance. 
Not  a  word  of  reproach  was  mingled  in  the  joy  of  that 
happy  family  reunion. 

Once  again,  after  his  wanderings,  his  weary  years 
among  strangers,  an  outcast  pilgrim,  a  homeless  fugi- 
tive, his  head  rested  softly  on  the  pillow  of  home :  the 
realization  was  not  for  long,  but  the  bliss  that  rested 
and  refreshed  his  being  was  his  for  all  time. 


UNDER    THE  STORKS'   NEST.  199 

The  room,  the  bed,  of  his  boyhood !  Surely  all  the 
intervening  years,  the  sorrows,  and  absence  from  the 
familiar  place,  must  be  a  dream  ! 

He  is  too  happy  to  sleep.  Is  not  that  a  footstep 
stealing  towards  his  door  ?  Yes,  nearer  and  nearer ;  the 
door  opens  softly:  he  does  not  move;  he  knows  what  is 
coming:  a  face  is  bent  over  him,  a  gentle  kiss  is  pressed 
on  his  lips,  a  tear  falls  on  his  cheek.  Suddenly  the 
form  is  clasped  in  his  arms, — mother  and  son  weep  to- 
gether for  joy. 

Directly  father  joins  them,  with  a  plausible  air  of 
impatience.  "  What  absurdity  is  this,  mother,  keeping 
the  boy  from  his  rest,  when  you  have  all  of  to-morrow 
before  you  for  your  nonsensical  weeping  and  kissing? 
Come,  come,  old  lady;  this  will  never  do  in  the  world !" 

While  scolding  and  grumbling  thus,  his  apparent 
solicitude  is  contradicted  by  his  clearing  a  comfortable 
position  for  himself  on  the  edge  of  the  bed  beside  his 
wife ;  and,  utterly  regardless  of  the  needful  rest,  the 
three  sit  and  talk  till  daylight. 

Uncle  Thomas  presented  himself  early  for  admit- 
tance, and  when  informed  by  Mina  that  "her  people 
had  but  just  retired,"  he  limped  as  noiselessly  as  possible 
into  Bernhard's  room. 

"  Thunder !  how  the  fellow  sleeps  !  A  body  would 
suppose  that  prisons  and  gendarmes  were  things  that 
did  not  exist,"  he  muttered,  while  examining  Bernhard's 
valuables  that  were  lying  on  the  table.  "He  has  the 
old  watch  still,"  he  said,  with  a  pleased  smile.  "The 
boy  values  it, — perhaps  for  the  giver's  sake,  bless  him ! 
But  this  pocket-book  looks  lean,  hungry;  a  little  mor- 
sel may  come  handy,"  slipping  a  bank-note  into  one 


200  UNDER    THE  STORKS'    NEST. 

of  the  compartments.  He  replaced  things  as  he  had 
found  them,  and  then,  with  noise  enough  to  arouse  the 
seven  sleepers,  seated  himself  beside  the  bed,  startling 
Bernhard  out  of  his  slumbers  to  find  himself  clasped 
in  the  bear-like  embrace  of  Uncle  Thomas. 

"Out  of  this,  young  man  !  get  right  up;  I  want  to 
see  something  of  you  before  the  whole  family  take 
possession,  for  good-by  to  my  chances  then !" 

The  old  gentleman  was  right.  At  breakfast,  Albert, 
and  Matilda  and  her  husband,  and  the  youthful  but 
important  scion  of  the  house,  August,  all  came  in  for  a 
share  of  the  attention  of  the  visitor. 

Mina,  the  wise  guardian  of  the  door,  admitted  none 
into  the  house,  persisting  that  the  judge  and  madam 
were  not  at  home,  while  the  lively  voices  from  within 
left  the  callers  doubtful  of  the  girl's  veracity. 

We  pass  over  the  parting  hour.  It  is  the  saddest  of 
all  sad  things  to  part  from  those  we  love  under  such 
circumstances  as  those  that  necessitated  the  separation 
of  our  friends.  Bernhard's  professional  knowledge 
told  him  the  parting  with  his  sister  was  forever, — that 
they  would  never  meet  again  on  earth.  It  was  a  sor- 
rowful parting,  but  the  pleasure  of  having  met  once 
more  compensated  for  the  pain. 

Three  months  later,  Bernhard  was  in  Algiers.  There 
he  found  what  he  sought :  change,  excitement,  a  life 
of  activity  and  fatigue,  with  efficacious  results. 

He  asked  and  received  permission  to  become  a  vol- 
unteer surgeon  in  the  army,  and  connected  himself  with 
a  regiment  under  marching  orders. 

The  first  letter  from  home  contained  the  painful  but 
not  unexpected  news  of  Matilda's  death. 


UNDER    THE  STORKS'    NEST.  201 

He  joined  General  Bedeair's  expedition  two  years 
later,  and  soon  after  his  arrival  in  Africa  he  received 
letters  informing  him  of  the  death  of  Augusta's  hus- 
band, and  also  the  news  that  left  him  free  to  return 
unmolested  to  his  native  land.  The  old  sovereign  was 
no  more,  and  the  new  one  had  graciously  pardoned  the 
fugitive. 

The  success  of  Bedeau's  army  had  been  published 
over  the  land,  and  the  longing,  anxious  parents  were 
looking  for  the  return  of  their  son. 

Long,  long  they  .vaited,  without  hearing  a  word, 
till  Judge  Berndal  at  last  appealed  for  information  to 
the  French  Government,  and  received  the  intelligence 
that  Dr.  Berndal  had  joined  a  scouting-party,  who 
were  surprised  near  a  jungle  by  a  body  of  natives. 
only  a  few  of  the  party  escaping.  Dr.  Bernhaid 
Berndal  was  among  the  missing. 


CHAPTER    XVI. 

AT  fourteen  years  of  age  Master  August  was  le- 
markable  for  two  prejudices :  one  was  an  unreasoning 
contempt  for  girls,  the  other,  an  unbounded  admiration 
for  brigandism. 

The  first  he  displayed  by  watching  them  from  some 
retreat  as  they  whispered  their  innocent  secrets  into 
one  another's  ears,  in  charming  little  groups,  when  he 
would  disdainfully  exclaim  to  himsalf,  "  What  on 
earth  can  those  geese  have  to  be  so  merry  about?" 
i* 


202  UNDER    THE  STORKS'    NEST. 

and  then  devote  himself  to  the  study  of  his  beloved 
Schiller  and  his  "  Robbers." 

He  had  two  intimate  friends  and  school-mates  who 
shared  these  prejudices;  and  together  they  studied  the 
one  and  sneered  at  the  other,  impatient  for  vacation,  so 
that  they  could  have  time  to  form  a  regular  robber 
band  and  find  a  place  for  their  head-quarters. 

To  say  that  the  lonely,  but  for  their  purpose  desira- 
ble, marsh,  and  the  vicinity  of  that  old  bell-tower, 
had  escaped  their  observation,  would  be  doing  great 
injustice  to  these  warm  admirers  of  Schiller. 

At  last  it  was  vacation.  August  received  permis- 
sion to  visit  his  friends  on  their  father's  estate,  some 
miles  from  the  city. 

Equipped  for  their  marauding  expedition,  but  not 
too  proud  to  accept  the  lunch  prepared  by  the  mother 
of  the  two  boys  to  sustain  their  courage  throughout  the 
day,  they  set  out  in  search  of  a  suitable  head-quarters, 
and  marched  direct  to  the  bell-tower  near  the  moor. 

They  surveyed  the  premises  carefully,  in  the  hope  of 
finding  some  loophole  admitting  a  passage  into  the 
tower  itself,  but  at  last  gave  it  up,  and  held  a  con- 
sultation regarding  their  next  move. 

If  a  hole  in  the  ground  was  out  of  the  question,  a 
cave  could  be  built  on  the  surface.  Rocks  and  rubbish 
for  this  purpose  were  at  hand  in  abundance. 

The  "spirit  is  willing,  but  the  flesh  is  weak,"  is 
an  oft-quoted  and  trite  old  saying.  And  this  proved 
another  instance  where  the  weak  flesh  strengthened 
with  the  requirements  of  the  willing  spirit. 

Great  heavy  rocks,  that  were  half  buried  in  earth  and 
the  rubbish  of  the  ruins,  were  unearthed  with  almost 


UNDER    THE  STORKS'    NEST.  203 

superhuman  effort  and  patience,  and  by  dint  of  push- 
ing and  dragging  were  brought  to  the  spot  where  they 
were  to  serve  for  corner-stones  to  the  "  cave." 

That  day  they  went  home  tired  from  their  labors, 
to  return  again  on  the  next  with  renewed  vigor  to 
their  work;  then  the  pleasure  was  so  great,  and  so 
proud  were  they  of  their  structure,  that  they  gave 
their  parents  no  rest  until  they  promised  to  come  out 
in  the  afternoon  to  inspect  the  formidable  den,  with  its 
Cyclopean  walls,  that  occupied  more  space  than  was 
left  inside ;  still,  the  robbers  had  room  for  themselves^ 
and  possibly  for  some  refractory  prisoner,  whose  height 
would  not  measure  over  four  feet. 

The  dimensions  of  the  cave  were  a  source  of  annoy- 
ance to  the  boys  when,  in  the  afternoon,  their  parents 
arrived,  and  proved  its  utter  incapacity  of  receiving 
even  one  of  them  within  its  inhospitable  walls ;  but 
they  laughingly  assured  them  the  bird's-eye  view  they 
obtained  of  the  comfort  of  the  interior  was  delight- 
ful. The  elders  wandered  away  to  view  the  sur- 
roundings; and  the  boys,  after  a  short  but  decisive 
deliberation,  concluded  they  must  have  a  larger  den, 
and,  while  they  were  about  it,  might  as  well  dig  a 
real  cave  underneath. 

August  the  Strong  knew  just  where  to  find  a  long, 
flat  stone  for  a  foundation.  Although  the  regular  work 
was  postponed  for  another  day,  they  thought  they 
would  see  if  the  stone  could  be  removed  from  the  spot 
where  it  had  evidently  lain  for  years,  having  sunk  into 
the  ground  several  inches. 

\Yorking  with  a  will  and  determination  to  succeed, 
the  stone  was  raised,  and  to  their  extreme  surprise  dis- 


204  UNDER    THE  STORKS'    NEST. 

closed  the  mouth  of  a  cylinder,  or  pipe,  large  enough 
to  admit  conveniently  any  one  of  the  excited  boys. 

Here  was  a  valuable  discovery.  Christopher  Co- 
lumbus had  discovered  America,  but  any  one  with  a 
respectable  power  of  endurance  can  find  America :  all 
that  is  needed  is  to  sail  westward  until  it  is  reached ; 
but  they  envied  no  one  such  glory  and  renown  at  that 
moment.  Had  they  not  discovered  an  entrance  into 
the  tower, — a  perfect  robbers'  stronghold  ? 

They  gazed — not,  as  they  had  expected,  into  impen- 
etrable night,  but  into  a  mysterious,  dusky  chamber, 
only  a  few  feet  removed  from  the  opening. 

August  crept  in,  followed  by  his  companions;  and 
in  a  moment  they  found  themselves  in  the  old  tower. 
High  over  them  the  sun  came  in  through  a  crevice  or 
window,  sending  its  light  down  through  an  opening  in 
the  floor  of  the  tower  itself.  The  entrance  to  the  room 
in  which  they  stood  had  been  walled  up;  but  they 
knew  it  was  just  outside  of  it,  where  the  ruins  and 
rubbish  were  piled  the  highest. 

On  the  floor  lay  a  pile  of  lumber,  the  broken  and 
decayed  remains  of  what  once  had  been  a  flight  of  stairs 
leading  to  the  opening  in  the  floor  above.  In  the  wall 
there  were  small  holes, — loop-holes,  probably, — which 
caught  the  attention  of  the  youthful  robber  chieftain, 
suggesting  means  of  reaching  and  surveying  the  upper 
tower. 

August  no  sooner  conceived  the  idea  than  he  gave  a 
leap  and  began  to  mount  the  wall ;  but  his  companions 
hesitated,  and,  scenting  danger,  endeavored  to  dissuade 
their  rash  captain  from  the  attempt. 

"  If  you  are  afraid  to  follow  me,  stay  where  you  are  !" 


UNDER    THE  STORKS'   NEST.  205 

he  said.  Mounting  higher,  he  reached  the  opening ; 
but  just  as  he  placed  his  hand  on  the  floor  to  swing 
himself  up,  he  gave  a  fearful  shriek,  crying,  as  his 
hold  relaxed,  "A  ghost !"  and  the  next  moment  he  lay 
senseless  and  bleeding  at  the  feet  of  the  horrified  boys. 

To  get  August  through  the  opening  into  the  air  was 
the  first  thing  to  be  done,  and  this  was  accomplished 
just  as  their  parents'  voices,  not  far  away,  promised 
help  for  their  companion. 

Who  can  describe  their  distress  as  they  found  their 
children  bending  over  the  bleeding,  seemingly  dead 
boy? 

He  was  placed  in  the  carriage  and  taken  home, 
where  all  possible  means  of  relief  were  immediately  re- 
sorted to;  but  the  physician  pronounced  the  injuries 
internal  and  fatal. 

Three  days  later,  with  his  grandmother's  agonized 
face  bending  over  him,  he  again  uttered  the  shriek,  "  A 
ghost !  a  ghost !"  and  expired. 

In  the  mean  time,  Judge  Berndal,  accompanied  by 
his  son-in-law,  his  friend  the  father  of  the  two  boys, 
and  a  few  laborers,  repaired  to  the  tower.  An  entrance 
was  forced,  and  ladders  were  fastened  together  and 
placed  in  communication  with  the  upper  tower.  A 
young  carpenter  in  the  party  mounted,  while  the  others 
stood  anxiously  below. 

They  saw  him  give  a  start,  whereupon  a  garrulous 
little  man  below,  whose  curiosity  had  led  him  to  fol- 
low unbidden  the  investigating  party,  hallooed  pertly, 
"Are  you  scared,  Horst?  Come  down  before  you  faint, 
and  give  us  men  a  chance  !" 

"  Hold  your  tongue,  you  village  tailor !  Did  you 
18 


206  UNDER    THE  STORKS'    NEST. 

borrow  the  pantaloons  from  your  wife  for  an  hour, 
that  you  talk  so  bravely?  You  had  better  go  home 
and  let  her  pad  your  back  against  I  get  down  there!" 
replied  Horst. 

"What  do  you  find  up  there — anything?"  asked  the 
judge. 

"  A  skeleton !" 

In  a  little  while  he  came  down,  with  a  discolored 
object  in  his  hand,  which  he  gave  to  one  of  the  gentle- 
men, saying,  "  There  is  a  human  skeleton  up  there.  I 
found  this  lying  in  the  rent  in  the  wall  at  its  side. 
There  is  nothing  else." 

It  was  a  weather-stained  leather  portfolio.  The  lock 
was  undone,  and  the  little  key  rusted  firmly  in  its 
place. 

"A  skeleton,  Horst?"  exclaimed  August's  father. 
"  That  must  have  been  the  ghost  that  frightened  my 
poor  boy ;  but,  for  Heaven's  sake,  how  did  it  get 
there  ?" 

Judge  Berndal  reached  out  his  hand  for  the  portfolio. 
His  face  was  pale,  and  his  limbs  trembled  as  he  opened 
it.  One  glance  at  the  gilt-edged  book  within,  and, 
with  a  cry  that  curdled  the  blood  of  his  hearers,  he 
exclaimed,  "  Martha !  Martha !  Martha !" 

His  son-in-law  ran  to  him,  and  supported  his  shaking 
form.  "  What  is  the  matter,  father  ?r 

"What  has  happened  ?"  questioned  every  one,  press- 
ing around,  curiously. 

Large  drops  of  sweat  stood  on  the  judge's  forehead, 
and  rolled  like  beads  over  his  ashen  face.  "The  book! 
That  book!" 

His  alarmed  son-in-law  took  the  book  out  of  the 


UNDER    THE  STORKS'    NEST.  207 

portfolio.  It  was  an  elegantly  bound  sketch-book,  the 
morocco  covers  of  which  had  protected  the  contents, 
leaving  the  closely-written  pages  time-stained  but  in- 
telligible. 

"  Her  sketch-book !     Oh,  my  God !  my  child !" 

He  disengaged  himself  from  his  son's  arms,  and 
walked  quickly  towards  the  ladder. 

"Where  are  you  going,  father?"  asked  his  son. 

"I  am  going  to  my  child;  to  my  poor,  unfortunate 
Martha!"  With  a  sob,  a  groan  so  pitiful  that  it  un- 
manned all  present,  he  leaned  his  head  for  a  moment 
against  the  hard  wall. 

Then,  like  a  flash,  his-  son  began  to  understand  him; 
they  all  began  to  realize  that  the  dreadful  thing  up  on 
that  floor  must  be  Martha  Berndal ! 

It  was  indeed  a  frightful  sight  that  met  their  gaze. 
In  one  corner,  slightly  bent  forward,  and  bleached  by 
wind  and  weather,  crouched  a  human  skeleton.  Every 
trace  of  clothing  had  disappeared  but  the  leathern  boots 
that  still  clung  to  its  feet.  On  the  neck  hung,  sus- 
pended from  a  slender  gold  chain,  a*  lady's  watch. 

In  silent  horror  they  stood  around  the  judge,  wrho, 
with  a  powerful  eifort,  controlled  himself;  but  his  voice 
was  feeble  and  broken  as  he  said,  seemingly  to  himself, 
and  unconscious  of  their  presence,  "That — that — awful, 
awful  thing — is  my  pretty  Martha!  Oh,  God!  this 
also?  Thy  hand  rests  cruelly  on  me  and  mine!  My 
poor  wife, — poor,  long-suifering  heart, — how  will  she 
bear  this?" 

They  would  have  comforted  him,  but  he  replied, 
"Leave  me,  I  beg,  friends;  leave  me  alone  with  my 
sorrow." 


208  UNDER    THE  STORKS'   NEST. 

Respectfully  they  obeyed  him,  only  his  friend  and 
son-in-law  remaining.  Turning  to  them,  he  said,  "  Do 
me  the  kindness  to  drive  to  the  city  and  send  a  coffin, 
that  I  may  place  my  child  to  rest ;  but  do  not  let  my 
wife  hear  of  this  before  I  return.  I  can  tell  her  best." 

His  friend  departed  to  execute  his  request,  but  his  son 
said,  "  I  cannot  leave  you  here  alone,  father." 

"  I  am  not  alone ;  my  child  is  with  me ;  and  you  have 
one  at  home  who  still  requires  your  care.  Go  to  him, 
and  God  grant  he  may  be  spared  to  you." 

"  Father,  my  son  is  in  the  hands  of  God,  as  we  all 
are.  I  shall  not  leave  this  place  without  you." 

A  look  of  sorrowful  affection  passed  between  them ; 
a  mute  hand -pressure  sent  a  magnetic  thrill  of  sym- 
pathy from  heart  to  heart.  Then,  silently  seating  them- 
selves on  a  projection  extending  along  the  wall,  they 
examined  the  sketch-book. 

The  first  pages  were  covered  with  drawings,  inter- 
spersed with  poetry.  Then  followed  closely-written 
leaves,  dating  from  the  day  she  left  home  on  her  last 
sketching  excursion. 

Is  it  in  the  power  of  words  to  describe  the  sensa- 
tions that  rent  the  father's  heart  as  he  read  ? 

"Monday,  October  13,  — .  Happy  me!  Lucky,  for- 
tunate Martha !  I  have  met  with  an  adventure.  Truly, 
a  real,  genuine,  extraordinary  adventure !  How  they 
will  scold  and  commiserate,  while  they  open  wide 
their  wondering  eyes,  when  I  reach  home  to-morrow 
and  relate  my  experience !  But,  alas  !  my  poor  parents 
and  brother,  my  darling  Albert,  and  my  good  old 
Uncle  Thomas,  what  a  fright  I  shall  occasion  you  when 
night  passes  over  without  the  return  of  your  Martha  ! 


UNDER    THE  STORKS'    NEST.  209 

If  I  could  only  spare  you  th's  anxiety !  Forgive  me, 
you  dear  ones,  forgive  me  just  this  once ! 

"Now  let  me  adjust  my  recollections  and  bring 
memory  to  order.  But  once  more  let  me  thank  Thee, 
thou  merciful  God,  for  my  deliverance  from  the  fright- 
ful danger  that  might  have  left  me  at  this  moment  a 
mangled  mass  below.  Thanks,  thou  tender,  watchful 
Father  above.  I  will  be  grateful  to  the  end  of  my 
life. 

"  I  was  really  undecided  whither  to  direct  my  ram- 
blings  this  morning,  but  the  story  of  Captain  von 
Kleist's  hunting  accident  on  the  moor  suggested  a  view 
of  the  Three  Oaks  in  the  vicinity.  Accordingly,  I  fol- 
lowed my  thoughts,  and  found  myself  here  about  half- 
past  ten  o'clock.  The  sun  was  getting  uncomfortably 
warm,  and  I  sought  the  pretty  spot  under  the  cool 
shadows  of  the  tower  where  Uncle  Thomas  told  me  the 
story  of  his  life,  and  where  the  gypsy-girl  appeared  so 
suddenly.  I  sat  down  to  rest,  and  thought  of  a  cir- 
cumstance connected  with  her  appearance, — that  I  was 
almost  positive  I  had  seen  some  one  in  the  upper  part 
of  the  tower  but  a  few  moments  previously.  Then 
her  singular  and  equally  sudden  disappearance — yes, 
I  felt  convinced  the  gypsy  came  from  the  interior  of 
the  tower;  that  a  hidden  entrance  existed.  I  deter- 
mined to  make  a  vigorous  search. 

"In  passing  the  pile  of  rubbish  heaped  against 
the  side  where  once  the  portal  had  been,  I  observed  a 
flat  rock  leaning  against  the  wall,  also  that  the  ground 
was  slightly  excavated,  and  on  closer  examination  I 
found  an  opening  large  enough  to  admit  my  per.- on. 

"After  quite  a  conflict  between  timidity  and  curiosity, 


210  UNDER    THE  STORKS'    NEST. 

— robbers,  thieves,  counterfeiters,  and  hosts  of  other  un- 
comfortable forms  haunted  my  imagination, — curiosity 
triumphed.  I  listened  and  listened,  every  faculty  on 
the  alert.  Nothing  but  utter  silence  within. 

"  I  walked  some  distance  from  the  place  in  a  circle,  and 
scrutinized  the  ground.  Not  a  blade  of  grass  escaped 
my  observation.  I  flatter  myself  I  managed  the  in- 
spection with  all  the  cunning  of  a  pathfinder.  Not 
a  particle  of  moss  had  been  touched,  not  a  stone  up- 
turned, by  recent  footsteps.  My  courage  rose;  I  did 
not  hear  anything  uncommon,  I  did  not  see  anything 
suspicious.  I  humbled  myself  to  the  ground  on  all 
fours,  and,  with  really  more  fear  and  heart-beating  than 
I  cafe  to  remember  or  pride  myself  in  avowing,  I 
crawled  through  the  opening,  and  found  myself  in  the 
•mysterious  tower,  at  the  foot  of  a  flight  of  stairs  lead- 
ing high  up  into  the  turret. 

"  The  explanation  of  this  opening  wras  simple.  The 
gypsies  had  probably  made  it  or  found  it,  and  had  used 
the  haunted  tower  to  store  stolen  goods,  as  a  safe  hiding- 
place.  The  night  they  decamped  so  hurriedly  they 
had  forgotten  or  neglected  to  close  it  and  thus  preserve 
their  secret. 

"  I  became  still  braver :  I  began  to  mount  the  stairs, 
— not,  however,  without  some  faint-hearted  hesitancy; 
but  that  also  vanished  the  higher  I  ascended  and  the 
lighter  it  became  around  me ;  and  when  the  cheerful 
daylight  met  me  as  I  reached  the  floor  and  the  blue  sky 
greeted  me  on  all  sides,  my  apprehensions  took  unto 
themselves  wings. 

"  Fear  is  the  daughter  of  darkness. 

"  I  stepped  out  on  the  platform,  that  is  inclosed  by  a 


UNDER    THE  STORKS'   NEST.  211 

wall  reaching  above  my  waist,  and  was  surprised  and 
delighted  at  the  magnificent  view  presented.  It  more 
than  repaid  me  for  the  momentary  fright  I  suffered 
during  my  exploration.  I  stood  spell-bound,  my  senses 
completely  entranced  ;  I  never  before  experienced  such 
a  soul-charm.  And  I  will  not  rest  or  give  you  peace 
until  I  have  you  all  up  here.  I  expect,  though,  we 
will  have  to  enlarge  that  opening  to  admit  the  plump, 
rotund  person  of  Uncle  Thomas. 

"  The  position  commands  miles  and  miles  of  country 
and  landscape  perfectly  beautiful.  Far  as  the  eye  can 
range  there  is  nothing  but  beauty.  The  moor,  with  its 
circular  centce  of  glistening  water,  looks  so  innocent 
and  lovely  with  its  picturesque  shrubs  and  its  velvety 
surface.  Yon  hills  form  a  grand  background,  with 
their  peaks  penetrating  the  tinted  clouds.  Over  there 
is  the  ocean :  the  waves  are  swelling,  billowing,  gently 
along  over  the  vast  deep,  whose  boundless  expanse 
seems  lost  in  the  azure  of  the  horizon. 

"  Not  a  house,  not  a  spire,  breaks  the  spell  of  nature's 
presence;  everywhere  are  seen  the  heavens  and  sheen 
of  green,  the  pennons  of  the  forest  summit,  waving  and 
nodding  under  the  sun's  rays.  I  close  my  eyes;  I 
imagine  I  can  hear  the  murmuring  of  the  sea,  the  whis- 
pering laughter  of  the  leaves,  the  creaking,  bending, 
dancing  utterances  of  the  branches  and  boughs,  as  the 
saucy  wind  kisses  and  caresses  them  with  his  airy 
coquetry. 

"  It  is  a  charming,  heavenly  picture  ! 

"  Resting  on  the  wall,  my  arms  crossed,  my  head  lean- 
ing on  my  hands,  I  closed  my  eyes  and  reverenced  God 
and  nature. 


212  UNDER    THE  STORKS'   NEST. 

"  After  awhile  I  aroused  myself  and  turned  to  descend 

the  steps  again. Stop !  I  require  some  refreshment. 

In  the  excitement  I  had  forgotten  my  appetite. 

"  I  am  quite  hungry,  and  will  keep  open  house  now. 
I  shall  have  time  enough  to  write  presently. 

"  Two  slices  of  bread,  and  six  apples.  I  must  divide 
and  portion  my  edibles.  They  will  have  to  do  me 
until  to-morrow  noon, at  least;  and  I  must  spare  a  few 
crumbs  for  the  sweet  little  red-breasted  finch  who  has 
invited  himself  so  confidently  to  my  board. 

"  They  seem  to  taste  wonderfully  nice  to  the  tame 
little  fellow.  A  wee  shy  titmouse  would  not  join  us, 
but  made  very  fine  table  music  with  his  twittering. 

"  Now  that  hunger  is  appeased,  I  continue  my  narra- 
tive. 

"  I  was  about  to  descend,  when  I  started  back  with 
fright.  A  terrific  noise,  of  rumbling  and  crashing,  wras 
heard,  and  the  next  moment  I  \vas  enveloped  in  a  cloud 
of  fine  dust  that  almost  suffocated  me,  while  the  old 
walls  trembled,  and  I  thought  the  floor  would  certainly 
give  way  under  my  feet. 

"  My  first  thought  was  that  there  had  been  an  explo- 
sion ;  my  next,  that  the  tower  was  tumbling.  I  sank 
to  the  floor,  with  my  hands  covering  my  face,  and  gave 
myself  up  for  lost. 

"  Everything  soon  became  quiet.  The  cloud  of  dust 
that  had  obscured  my  sight  settled,  and  I  crept  towards 
the  steps.  I  would  not  remain  another  moment;  I 
wanted  to  get  out  of  this  place  with  all  speed. 

"  Oh,  heavens !  I  gazed  into  a  yawning  gulf  of  black 
dust,  hovering  like  vapors  over  a  volcanic  crater,  and 
that  was  all  I  saw.  The  steps  were  gone !  I  am  a 


UNDER    THE  STORKS'   NEST.  213 

prisoner  up  here  for  the  night.  If  I  had  placed  my 
foot  on  the  stairs  but  an  instant  before,  I  should  now 
be  lying  crushed  and  dead  under  the  rotten  lumber 
dqwn  there.  Dreadful ! 

"  Dear  Lord  !  how  I  thank  Thee  for  thy  protecting 
grace ! 

"  If  the  floor  should  give  way !  No ;  it  is  without  a 
cleft  or  crevice,  gap  or  chasm.  My  fears  gradually  be- 
came quieted  :  I  experienced  a  feeling  of  elation.  My 
situation  was  singularly  romantic.  I  had  met  with  a 
perilous  adventure,  a  hair-breadth  escape.  I  imagined 
myself  some  enchanted  princess  in  fairy-land.  I  fancied 
I  beheld  the  prince  engaged  in  breaking  a  road  through 
the  thicket,  slaying  here  a  growling  lion,  there  some 
other  interfering  animal,  until  he  had  cleared  a  passage 
to  my  castle. 

"  I  leaned  over  the  parapet  to  point  out  the  subter- 
ranean entrance.  Mercy !  what  did  I  see ! 

"  The  concussion  resulting  from  the  falling  of  the 
stairs  had  shaken  the  loose  mortar  and  fragments  from 
the  pile  of  rubbish  over  the  opening;  the  stone  that 
marked  the  place  had  fallen,  and  had  been  completely 
covered  from  sight. 

"  I  did  not  permit  that  to  trouble  me  long.  My  de- 
liverer could  not  reach  me  from  the  inner  floor.  Were 
not  the  steps  gone  ?  My  liberation  must  necessarily  be 
effected  in  some  other  way. 

"  Fancy  soon  constructed  a  rope-ladder,  that  was 
fastened  securely  above  at  one  end,  the  other  being 
lowered  to  Albert.  Who  should  the  knight  be  but 
Albert?  Just  as  he  was  about  to  climb  up  to  me,  a 
rustling,  fluttering  noise  in  the  air  warned  us  of  the 


214  UNDER    THE  STORKS'    NEST. 

presence  of  the  old  wizard  who  held  me  prisoner. 
Down  he  came  stormily  on  his  winged  steed,  and  a 
terrible  battle  ensued.  Swords  flashed  fire,  and  sparks 
flew  from  the  armor  at  every  blow.  Youth  and  love 
conquered.  A  powerful  thrust  from  my  knight  cleft 
the  wizard's  helmet ;  his  head  rolled  to  the  earth,  his 
wicked  body  instantly  followed. 

"My  Albert  mounted  the  winged  steed,  and  in  a  mo- 
ment I  was  in  his  arms.  Away  we  went  over  woods 
and  meadows,  hjlls  and  valleys,  with  the  fleetness  of  an 
arrow,  until  we  gently  halted  on  the  dear  old  gable- roof, 
and  then  before  the  door  of  the  yellow  house,  where 
we  were  received  with  shouts  of  welcome. 

"  Dreams,  foolish  dreams ;  yet  they  beguiled  the  time, 
until  life  in  its  reality  forced  itself  upon  me.  I  spread 
out  my  arms  towards  home,  towards  the  loving,  beloved 
ones  there.  Oh,  if  I  only  had  wings ! 

"  To  experience  such  romantic  adventures  as  have 
liappened  me  to-day  is  far  more  charming  than  reading 
about  them. 

"  The  sun  is  sinking  out  of  my  world  of  romance, 
suggesting  a  prosaic  evening. 

"  The  night  will  soon  be  here,  the  cold,  dark,  dismal 
night  in  this  awful  wilderness,  with  its  lonely  moor,  its 
haunting  spectres,  that  I  have  heard  so  many  stories 
about. 

"  Martha,  show  your  courage.  To-morrow  will  prove 
whether  your  heart  is  that  of  a  timid,  silly  girl. 

"  I  console  myself  with  the  knowledge  that  I  shall  not 
be  troubled  with  undesirable  visitors;  I  should  be  in 
fear  all  night  long  if  the  stairs  were  there.  I  anticipate 
no  intruders.  Be  brave,  heart, be  brave;  the  autumn 


UNDER    THE  STORKS1   NEST.  215 

night  is  long,  but  it  will  come  to  an  end.  It  will  be 
morning  again. 

"It  is  getting  quite  dark.  Soon  I  shall  be  missed. 
What  will  you  think  ?  how  will  you  dear,  anxious  ones 
account  for  my  absence?  Forgive  me,  father,  mother, 
darling  Albert,  all  you  dear,  dear  ones  that  will  suffer 
for  my  foolish,  inconsiderate  curiosity. 

"  God  comfort  you  and  me  this  night,  and  grant  us 
a  happy  reunion  to-morrow !  Good-night!  good-night! 

"  Tuesday,  October  14. — With  what  bewitching  love- 
liness the  moon  lights  up  the  beautiful  earth,  when,  on 
the  arm  of  a  loved  one,  we  wander  abroad  in  its  silvery 
beams!  How  dreadful, how shudderingly  cold  it  looks 
as  it  glides  along  the  stellar  dome,  when  one  watches 
it,  as  I  did,  in  loneliness !  and  such  loneliness ! 

"Ugh!  How  I  shake  with  frost  and  damp!  The 
sun  is  so  bright,  I  shall  gratefully  warm  and  dry  myself 
in  its  rays.  I  am  stiff,  and  chilled  in  every  limb. 

"  Oh,  come,  beloved  ones,  come,  and  deliver  me  from 
this  dismal  place  !  Poor,  anxious  hearts,  what  a  night 
you  have  endured  for  my  sake  !  How  fortunate  that  I 
told  Captain  von  Kleist  where  I  thought  of  going ! 
They  will  ask  him ;  they  will  soon  be  here  now ;  they 
will  find  their  poor,  forlorn  child.  I  have  had  enough 
of  the  romantic.  Never,  never  more  will  I  seek  adven- 
ture. This  one  night  has  cured  me  for  all  time  of  every 
particle  of  enthusiastic  extravagance. 

"The  sun  set  last  night  leaving  such  a  splendid 
golden  glow ;  yet  I  could  not  enjoy  it,  because  the  ravens 
surrounded  me  so  disagreeably ;  at  first  only  one,  then 
two,  then  more,  until  they  formed  an  ugly  cloud  above 
and  around  the  tower,  croaking  and  shrieking  over  me, 


216  UNDER    THE  STORKS'   NEST. 

as  if  they  wanted  to  drive  the  disturbing  intruder  away. 
This  is  evidently  a  resort  for  them  before  they  betake 
themselves  to  rest  in  the  trees.  It  was  very  dismal  to  see 
them  hover  together  over  me,  then  come  down  in  a 
body  as  if  they  meditated  my  destruction.  Their  cries 
did  not  cease  until  long  after  dark.  I  expect  they  held 
an  indignant  conclave  over  the  disturber  of  their  peace. 
You  can  rest  satisfied,  you  scolding  tribe,  to-night  you 
may  have  your  old  tower  for  yourselves,  thank  Heaven ! 

"As  the  wind  wras  chill  and  penetrating,  I  huddled 
as  far  as  possible  into  a  corner,  and  thus  was  protected 
somewhat  from  the  air  and  cold.  I  closed  my  eyes, 
determined  to  coax  an  early  slumber  to  them ;  but  the 
exciting  events  of  the  day,  together  with  my  strange 
surroundings,  and  the  cold,  kept  me  awake.  The  wind 
rustled  through  the  trees  mournfully  enough;  still,  I  had 
expected  that,  and  was  prepared  for  all  such  sounds. 
But  what  was  that  making  those  unearthly  noises 
through  the  rushing  and  rustling  of  the  leaves  ?  One 
moment  it  was  groaning  and  moaning  like  some  one  in 
mortal  agony,  then  it  was  sobbing  and  sighing  like  a 
woman  in  deepest  sorrow.  A  crunching  and  crackling, 
rattling  and  creaking,  sounded  everywhere.  The  boards 
under  my  feet  trembled  as  if  some  one  were  creeping 
heavily  along  the  floor. 

"All  around  me  was  a  continued  whispering  and 
hissing,  broken  by  the  occasional  startling  shriek  of 
some  raven,  who,  perhaps,  dreamed  he  was  losing  his 
equilibrium.  On  every  side  there  were  strange  noises, 
whistling,  whispering,  sighing;  and,  to  be  a  truthful 
historian,  I  must  add  that  sniffling  and  snorting  also 
joined  the  chorus. 


UNDER    THE  STORKS'   NEST.  £17 

"  The  wood  sent  up  the  voice  of  the  thieving  fox, 
the  deer  softly  whimpered,  a  startled  creature  now  and 
then  gave  vent  to  sounds  thrilling  and  unfamiliar  to  my 
acute  hearing ;  the  marsh-bird's  voice  echoed  its  muf- 
fled tones.  The  whole  air  vibrated  with  awful  noises. 
The  night-wind  carried  from  afar  the  doleful  '  woo ! 
woo !'  of  the  nocturnal  king  of  the  feathered  tribe. 
Directly  it  sounded  over  my  head,  accompanied  by  a 
wavering,  fluctuating  motion  of  the  air.  A  dark  object 
rested  immediately  over  me.  Two  fiery  eyes  were 
staring  at  me  so  fiercely  that  the  blood  seemed  turned 
to  ice  in  my  veins.  I  leaped  out  of  my  corner, — not  in 
bravery,  but  in  terror, — and,  clutching  a  rock  at  my  feet, 
I  sent  it  towards  the  balls  of  fire.  When  I  looked 
again,  they  were  gone ;  but  all  night  the  ugly  owl  re- 
mained within  hearing  with  its  cry,  'woo!  woo!' 

"  The  moon  shone  clear  and  cold,  but  there  was  no 
beauty  or  comfort  either  in  it,  or  in  the  thousands  of 
stars  that  sparkled  in  the  firmament.  The  face  in  the 
moon  seemed  distorted  with  a  hateful  grin.  I  was  so 
cold  by  this  time  that  I  wrapped  my  shawl  closely 
about  me  and  walked  up  and  down  on  the  platform, 
keeping  my  blood  in  circulation  in  that  way.  Before 
me,  calm  and  quiet,  lay  the  moor.  What  were  those 
forms  moving  among  the  firs  along  the  borders, — white 
objects,  clearly  discernible  as  they  passed  between  the 
dark  fir-stalks  ?  I  started  back  with  a  shudder.  Those 
were  the  spirits  and  demons  that  are  supposed  to  haunt 
the  moor  nightly.  '  Nonsense,  Martha !'  I  exclaimed. 
1  Crack-brained  superstition.  Imagine  you  see  spirits  ! 
Absurd  coward,  Martha!'  I  lookel  again.  The  white 
objects  were  still  there,  but  I  laughed  at  my  absurd 
K  19 


218  UNDER    THE  STORKS'   NEST. 

fears.  I  could  see  what  they  were  distinctly  now : 
only  little  white  birch-trees  between  the  dark  bodies  of 
the  firs ! 

"  At  last,  at  last,  the  day  began  to  dawn.  How  I 
shivered  !  The  air  grew  sharper  and  colder ;  and  when 
at  last  the  welcome  sun  arose  and  scattered  the  dew, 
and  rent  the  nebulous  veil  that  hung  like  a  silvery  mist 
over  all,  I  was  completely  covered  with  frost,  and  gladly 
availed  myself  of  his  first  warming  rays.  Oh,  they 
were  so  pleasant ! 

"  My  watch  tells  me  'tis  past  noon.  And  Albert, — 
where  is  he  ?  Does  he  not  know  I  long  and  wait  ?  Why 
does  he  tarry  ?  For  hours  I  have  been  sitting  in  this 
spot,  where  I  can  see  him  the  very  instant  he  comes. 
What  care  I  for  tl.e  forest  or  the  picturesque  to-day? 
I  want  to  see  my  Albert,  my  dear  ones  at  home.  Like 
the  sister  of  Bluebeard's  wife,  I  sit  and  ask  myself, 
'Sister  Anna,  what  do  you  see?'  Again  and  again 
I  reply,  '  Nothing  I  nothing !' 

"  Why  do  you  not  come  ?  Oh,  come,  come  !  The 
sun  is  again  sinking  to  rest,  and  I  am  still  here.  My 
God!  my  God!  not  a  soul  in  sight!  Oh,  if  it  were 
the  meanest  beggar,  how  I  would  bless  him  !  I  would 
kiss  his  hands  and  feet,  I  would  give  him  all  I  possess 
on  earth !  Oh,  I  long  so  for  the  face  of  some  human 
being ! 

"  A  moment  since,  there  was  a  rustling  in  the  bushes. 
My  heart  beat  high  with  hope.  I  trusted  it  was  some 
one  to  whom  I  could  make  known  my  situation.  I 
looked  and  listened.  It  was  only  a  shy  little  doe,  that 
gazed  quickly  and  timidly  about  and  disappeared  be- 
hind the  to\\er.  Perhaps  it  had  fled  from  some  hunter. 


UNDER    THE  STORKS'    NEST.  219 

I  called  and  called  until  my  voice  was  choked  with  sobs 
and  the  tears  I  could  no  longer  repress. 

"  O  God !  merciful,  gracious  Father !  have  pity  on 
your  child  !  Send  help,  oh,  send  me  help  ! 

"Wednesday,  October  15. — Oh,  this  night!  this 
hideous,  horrible  night ! 

"  The  sun  went  down  in  dull  red,  threatening  clouds. 
Not  a  star  appeared.  The  moon  was  in  sight  occasion- 
ally from  between  the  heavy  clouds  that  chased  one 
another  angrily  across  the  heavens,  leaving  all  again 
in  sullen  gloom  as  other  still  darker  clouds  obscured 
its  momentary  light.  A  strong  wind  began  to  blow 
directly  after  sunset,  and  soon  roared  fiercely  through 
the  trees.  The  distant  thunder  rolled  nearer  and  nearer. 
A  fearful  storm  prevailed.  The  old  stone  walls  shook ; 
I  was  afraid  they  would  fall  in.  No,  not  afraid  they 
would  fall :  I  hoped  they  would.  I  was  so  miserable, 
down-hearted,  and  low-spirited,  it  was  utterly  indif- 
ferent to  me  what  might  happen.  I  was  stunned, 
benumbed,  stupefied ;  I  am  so  yet.  The  sun  will  not 
shine  for  me  to-day.  Mother,  father,  Bernhard,  Albert, 
Uncle  Thomas,  have  you  all  forgotten  me?  Oh,  do 
come  to  me,  come  and  help  me ! 

"  I  heard  a  dog  barking,  and  cried,  cried  for  help. 
In  vain,  all  in  vain, — no  one  will  hear  me ! 

"  It  has  been  raining  for  hours ;  my  clothes  are  drip- 
ping wet  and  cling  to  my  limbs;  I  am  shivering  with 
cold. 

"  My  God  !  have  you,  then,  forsaken  me  altogether  ? 

"  It  is  getting  dark  again.  Oh,  the  night  is  coming, 
and  why  do  you  not  come  and  save  me,  save  me  from 
another  night  of  horror, — save  me  from  distraction  ?  I 


220  UNDER    THE  STORKS'   NEST. 

have  not  had  a  bit  of  food  or  nourishment  since  yester- 
day,— yesterday  at  midday ;  I  am  hungry,  hungry  ! 
Do  you  know  it  ?  Can  you  not  hear  me  ? 

"  Oh,  this  is  dreadful,  dreadful !  A  few  miles  from 
here  there  are  villages  all  around ;  thousands  of  people 
are  there,  and  I  am  here  alone  and  forsaken ! 

"  I  call,  but  none  answer ;  I  am  hungry,  and  none 
offer  me  a  crumb  from  their  abundance ;  I  suffer  from 
storm  and  cold,  without  a  roof  to  cover  me.  Birds  and 
beasts  have  their  protection  :  I,  I  alone  am  exposed  to 
wind  and  storm,  helpless,  forsaken,  famishing.  Must 
I  perish  with  cold  and  hunger  ? 

"  Have  mercy,  thou  almighty  God  !  Have  compas- 
sion on  me.  I  am  so  young  to  die, — life  is  so  pleasant. 
I  will  live ! — I  will !  Come  and  save  me, — save  me 
from  insanity ! 

"Thursday. — I  have  not  closed  my  eyes  the  live- 
long night,  not  one  sweet  moment  of  oblivion  to  bless 
and  refresh  me ;  but  I  dreamed, — wide  awake  I  dreamed. 
I  am  tired — tired  to  death.  Long  tables  stood  before 
me,  covered  with  tempting  food,  and  when  I  touched 
it  it  turned  to  stone  !  The  trees  were  bowed  down  with 
fruit, — such  luscious  fruit! — and  when  I  reached  out  my 
hand  to  take  some,  the  boughs  sprang  with  elastic  force 
up  out  of  my  reach !  It  is  nothing  but  rain  and  cold 
and  hunger, — gnawing,  tormenting  hunger.  My  head  is 
burning,  and  yet  I  tremble  and  shiver  with  cold.  My 
cars  ring  and  buzz, — a  hundred  voices  seem  calling  me 
at  once. 

"  You  are  all  here,  but  I  cannot  touch  you.  My 
thoughts  are  confused.  Am  I  getting  mad  ?  Oh,  I  am 
so  hungry,  so  cold !  Why  do  I  not  sleep  ?  Sleep  has 


UNDER    THE  STORKS'   NEST.  221 

forsaken  my  burning  eyes.  I  know  why  you  do  not 
come  to  me :  the  gypsy-girl  came  to  me  last  night  and 
whispered  in  my  ear,  ( Do  you  remember  ? 

1 '  Thy  humble  lot  cherish  :  shouldst  leave  it  in  gride, 
Then  ruin  goes  with  thee,  death  stands  at  thy  side.' 

"  Ha !  ha !  ha !  ruin  came  in  with  me  through  that 
dark  passage;  death  was  at  my  side  when  I  so 
proudly  came  up  here.  It  has  not  left,  and  you  cannot 
drive  it  away.  You  will  not  find  me  till  I  am  dead. 
Ha !  ha !  ha  !  that  will  be  merry ! 

"I  believe  I  am  getting  crazy  !  All  is  confusion  in 
my  brain. 

"  That  old  raven  is  here  again.  He  is  sitting  on  the 
wall  yonder,  and  blinks  at  me  with  his  black,  flashing 
eyes  as  soberly  and  thoughtfully  as  a  doctor  when 
feeling  the  pulse  of  his  patient.  Go  away !  Begone, 
you  monster !  Shoo  !  shoo ! 

"  He  will  be  back  directly,  to  inquire  about  the  state 
of  my  health.  Bring  me  some  bread, — -j  ust  one  little  bite ! 

"' Sister  Anna,  do  you  see  anything?'  ' Nothing, 
nothing,  but  sky  and  forest.' 

"  Suppose  I  dash  myself  down  through  the  stairway  ? 
What  would  it  avail  me  ?  I  cannot  get  out. 

"  There  goes  my  hat, — the  wind  has  taken  it  away. 
See  how  merrily  he  flies  and  turns,  rejoicing  in  his  free- 
dom, in  his  release  from  this  lonesome  tower !  He  rolls 
and  tumbles  from  bush  to  bush,  stopping  now  and  then 
to  kiss  a  stone,  to  hug  the  earth  for  happiness.  I  had 
to  laugh  for  him,  to  see  how  gleefully  he  enjoyed  his 
freedom.  Alas!  and  I  can  laugh,  with  lamentations 
quivering  through  every  sense  of  feeling.  I  am  in  such 

19* 


222  UNDER    THE  STORKS'   NEST. 

trouble — trouble !     I  did  not  think  it  possible  a  human 
being  could  endure  so  much. 

"  My  hat  is  right  under  the  wall  here.  I  wanted  to 
catch  it.  I  dashed  my  shawl  after  it,  and  was  about  to 
follow,  when  I  saw  Albert  at  my  side,  holding  out  his 
arms  to  me,  saying, '  Martha !  my  dear,  sweet  Martha !' 

"  I  turned.  Everything  grew  dark  before  me.  In 
the  place  of  his  arm  I  fell  to  the  floor.  Oh,  Albert ! 
where  are  you  ? 

"  The  rain,  the  cold  rain,  awakened  me.  My  forehead 
is  bleeding :  my  limbs  pain  me.  I  am  so  hungry,  so 
cold  !  My  shawl  is  hanging  on  the  branches  out  of  my 
reach.  My  God !  my  God  !  must  I  die  alone  in  this 
horrible  place  ?  Oh,  have  compassion,  have  mercy  on 
me !  hear,  oh,  hear  me,  Father,  God  ! 

"Friday. — No  more  hope — none!  none! — and  no 
more  hunger.  Nothing  but  dreams ;  such  beautiful 
dreams !  such  hideous,  fearful  dreams !  Why  must  I 
awaken  again  and  again, — wake  from  such  sweet 
dreams  and  find  myself  here?  I  write  with  diffi- 
culty :  it  is  tiresome.  My  head  is  confused,  and  I  ache 
all  over  ;  there  is  such  pain  in  every  limb, — pain,  pain, 
pain,  all  over.  I  am  so  sore  and  stiff  I  cannot  rise.  I 
can  scarcely  move. 

"  Yesterday  I  wrote  on  some  of  the  leaves  of  my  book 
and  threw  them  over  the  wall;  they  will  tell  you  where 
to  find  me.  I  am  so  weak  I  cannot  throw  any  more 
over :  the  wind  will  carry  them  for  me.  Take  me  to 
thee,  O  God !  take  my  soul,  release  me  from  this  pain 
and  horror. 

"  The  raven  is  here,  and  I  cannot  drive  him  away ;  he 
is  waiting  for  my  death.  Oh,  pity,  pity,  Lord !  let  it 


UNDER    THE  STORKS'   NEST.  223 

come  soon.  Why  do  I  linger  and  linger  in  such  tor- 
ment ?  Surely  it  must  soon  be  over.  Farewell,  dearest 
father,  mother,  sweet,  good  mother,  sister,  brother, 
Uncle  Thomas,  and  you,  my  love,  my  Albert,  farewell ! 
Forgive  the  grief  I — will  soon  be  over — I  will  be  free. 
We  will  meet  again — will  meet  again.  I  am  so  sleepy. 

Farewell,  fare 

"  Saturday. — Not  dead  yet !  The  ravens,  the  ravens  ! 
drive  them  away  !  away  !  away  !  To  be  living  and  yet 
be  dead !  The  heavens  are  full  of  angels.  Dear  ones, 
you  are  all  here — all  here  with  me  at  last.  Where  is 
Albert?  Give  me  your  hand,  mother;  it  is  getting 
dark.  Death  calls  me  !  Welcome  !  welcome !  Fare- 
well !" 


Hearts  are  not  easily  broken,  or  the  heart  of  that 
wretched  father  would  have  burst  with  anguish  as  he 
read  the  terrible  lines  and  comprehended  the  dying 
struggles  of  his  child,  whose  bleached  remains  were  over 
in  that  corner,  the  awful  skull  with  its  vacant  stare 
and  grin  seeming  to  follow  his  every  motion. 

Tortured,  martyred ;  but  he  did  not  die,  his  heart  did 
not  break.  Death  does  not  come  to  those  who  invite 
him ;  he  does  not  walk  over  the  threshold  like  a  bidden 
guest.  He  creeps  in  unawares,  and  takes  what  suits 
him,  not  what  is  offered.  The  agonized  father  leaned 
his  arms  on  the  wall  and  gazed  over  the  moor,  his  soul 
uttering  his  lamentations  over  his  daughter! 

"  My  sweet,  innocent  child !  pure  of  heart  and  free 
of  spirit !  would  I  could  have  died  for  you !  My  dar- 
ling !  my  best-beloved  !  And  have  we  not  all  endured 


224  UNDER    THE  STORKS'    NEST. 

for  your  sake  ?  Light  and  happiness  departed  with  you ; 
sorrow  and  sickness  and  death  have  taken  your  place  in 
the  old  house ;  the  fate  of  so  many  blighted ;  death, 
murder,  disgrace,  resulted  from  your  absence.  Shall 
the  fatality  cease  only  when  there  is  no  longer  an  object 
of  our  love  to  destroy  ?  My  house  a  place  of  mourning, 
my  heart  a  withered  husk !  Oh,  my  unhappy,  stricken 
wife!  This  also  must  be  borne." 

The  men  returned.  Horst  came  up  the  ladder  with 
a  coffin  on  his  shoulders.  The  father  directed  him  to 
place  it  beside  the  skeleton,  saying,  "  None  shall  touch 
thee  but  thy  father,  Martha." 

He  stooped  to  remove  it.  At  the  first  touch  the  ob- 
ject fell  together  with  a  rattling  sound:  the  skull  rolled 
upon  the  floor  at  his  feet. 

He  threw  up  his  arms  with  a  pitiful  groan,  and  would 
have  fallen  had  not  his  son  supported  him. 

This  last  had  been  too  much  for  his  endurance :  he 
had  fainted. 

When  he  returned  to  consciousness,  the  remains  of  his 
unfortunate  child  had  been  removed. 

August  and  Martha  rest  beside  Matilda. 

The  lonely  old  people  in  the  gable-house  live  on. 


UNDER    THE  STORKS'   NEST.  225 


CHAPTER    XVII. 

TIME  passes  swiftly  to  the  happy.  To  the  restless, 
grief-stricken  heart,  the  moments  seem  like  hours. 

The  years  brought  to  the  inhabitants  of  the  quiet 
homestead  their  measure  of  healing.  The  last  sad  event 
had  robbed  them  of  every  tie  that  chained  their  hearts 
to  earth.  They  looked  to  the  future  beyond  the  grave, 
and  waited  for  the  reunion  with  the  resigned  patience 
which  sorrow  and  trouble  had  taught  them. 

Uncle  Thomas  had  ceased  to  hope  for  the  pleasure  of 
having  nephews'  children  climbing  on  his  lap  and  riding 
on  his  wooden  leg;  but,  wyhen  the  gout  permitted,  he 
would  travel  across  the  street  and  sit  for  hours  in  the 
gable-house.  Together  the  three  old  folks  passed  the 
time,  reviewing  the  past  in  a  cheerful,  peaceful  manner. 

Uncle  Thomas  had  been  unfortunate  in  a  recent 
venture  as  a  matchmaker.  He  gave  Albert  no  rest 
until  he  had  laid  his  hand  and  heart  at  the  feet  of 
Augusta,  who,  since  her  husband's  death,  resided  near 
them  again.  Albert  received  a  polite  but  decided 
refusal,  and  Uncle  Thomas  indulged  in  the  most  out- 
rageous profanity.  Having  relieved  himself  comfort- 
ably, he  settled  down,  retaining  his  wooden  leg  for  the 
service  it  had  done,  not  for  the  delight  he  had  once 
anticipated  in  its  possession. 

Mrs.  Berndal  was  failing.  The  two  watchful  old 
gentlemen  saw  it  plainly.  All  her  thoughts  were  in- 

K* 


226  UNDER    THE  STORKS'    NEST. 

terested  in  putting  her  house  in  order,  preparatory  to 
taking  the  long  journey. 

Poor  Mina,  grown  old  in  the  service  of  her  kind 
mistress,  wept  night  and  day.  The  husband  comforted 
and  encouraged  his  wife,  and  endeavored  to  drive  out 
of  her  mind  the  thoughts  that  seemed  so  bent  on  death. 
Uncle  Thomas  talked,  and  swore,  and  grumbled  to 
himself;  but  Mrs.  Berndal's  health  failed  nevertheless, 
until  she  had  not  strength  to  leave  her  bed. 

One  morning  quite  early  she  raised  herself,  as  if.  the 
night  had  granted  .sudden  vigor,  and,  waking  her  hus- 
band, she  exclaimed,  "  Ferdinand,  Ferdinand  !  Listen, 
listen  !  What  is  that  noise  ?" 

"  I  do  not  hear  anything.  What  shall  I  listen  to, 
Lottie  ?" 

"  Only  hark  a  moment !  hark  !  There !  do  you  not 
hear  ?  The  storks  have  come  back !  The  storks !  the 
storks  !  They  are  rattling  and  clattering  on  the  roof!" 

"  Yes,  I  hear  them,  Lottie,  I  hear  them." 

As  quickly  as  possible  the  judge  dressed  himself,  and 
hastened  into  the  garden,  to  obtain  a  view  of  the  roof. 
High  up  on  the  chimney  stood  two  storks,  once  more 
taking  observations,  and  clattering  their  great  beaks, 
as  if  in  consultation  and  thoughtfully  viewing  the 
country  before  beginning  to  build.  Overjoyed,  he  re- 
turned to  the  house. 

"  You  were  right :  the  storks  have  returned,  and 
are  standing  on  the  old  chimney  with  architectural 
importance ;  they  are  going  to  build  again  !" 

"  Storks  on  the  roof  bring  blessings  to  the  house," 
murmured  his  wife;  "but  what  blessing  can  they  bring 
us?" 


UNDER    THE  STORKS'   NEST.  227 

"  Your  health !  You  will  be  restored  to  me,  Lottie ; 
together  we  will  enter  the  Valley  of  Promise/'  ten- 
derly replied  the  judge,  kissing  her. 

Mrs.  Berndal  began  to  improve  from  that  day,  and 
when  the  birds  of  luck  prepared  to  migrate  in  the  fall, 
she  stood  in  the  garden  smiling  and  cheerful,  saying, 
"  A  pleasant  journey  to  you,"  without  a  doubt  of  their 
return. 

.  Great  preparations  were  being  made :  the  house  was 
in  commotion ;  young  and  old  friends  gathered  under 
the  gable-roof  in  honor  of  the  wedding, — the  jubilee. 

It  was  a  bright  morning  in  November, — the  golden 
wedding-day  of  Judge  Berndal  and  his  wife. 

They  were  sitting  at  the  breakfast-table,  andMina  had 
just  presented  an  offering  of  a  bouquet  of  fresh  flowers. 
The  speech  studied  with  so  much  care  would  not  flow  from 
her  trembling  lips ;  she  stuttered  a  word  or  two,  sounding 
like,  "  Dear  mistress,  may  you — you "  then,  throw- 
ing her  clean  white  apron  over  her  tearful  face,  she  ran 
out  of  the  room. 

Mrs.  Berndal's  eyes  were  fastened  on  the  flowers  in  an 
absent  gaze,  her  face  beaming  with  contentment.  Her 
husband  asked, — 

"  Lottie,  where  are  you  tarrying  so  peacefully?  Come 
back  to  me,  wife,  and  pass  the  sugar  this  way.  Shall 
I  drink  my  coffee  without  sweetening  for  the  first  time 
in  our  fifty  years  of  married  life?" 

"  Pardon  me,"  said  she,  passing  the  bowl  to  him.  "I 
was  carried  back,  far,  far  back  into  the  happy  past,  by 
the  fragrant  blossoms,  and  I  was  thinking  of  my  dream 
last  night.  Such  a  happy  dream,  Ferdinand  !" 

The  judge  pressed   her  hand  lovingly,  as  he  said, 


228  UNDER    THE  STORKS'    NEST. 

"  Fifty  years  ago  to-day  you  promised  to  share  joy  and 
sorrow  with  me, — let  me  share  the  happiness  of  this 
dream." 

"  What  I  promised  then  I  will  reiterate  to-day,  even 
as  you  have  been  true  and  faithful  for  fifty  years.  I 
will  relate  my  dream. 

"  I  thought  I  was  walking  in  a  beautiful  garden ; 
the  ground  was  covered  with  velvety  moss,  and  every- 
where there  were  blossoming  plants  that  perfumed  the 
air.  Trees  bore  fruit  that  glistened  like  jewels,  birds 
were  singing  so  sweetly  it  was  enchanting  to  listen.  Oh,  I 
cannot  describe  the  beauty  and  soul-charming  splendor 
of  that  garden  !  I  was  wondering  why  I  alone  occu- 
pied and  enjoyed  it,  when  I  observed  advancing  to- 
wards me  four  forms  robed  in  some  strange  shining 
material ;  their  faces  were  glorified  with  a  light  not  of 
earth.  But  I  knew  them;  he,  our  first-born,  was  in  the 
strength  of.  manhood,  but  I  knew  him  by  his  soulful 
eyes,  that  looked  at  me  from  his  little  crib  so  longingly 
the  day  he  died;  and  Matilda,  Martha,  and  August 
were  with  him.  I  held  them  in  my  arms,  and  they 
rested  against  my  heart,  and  each  gave  me  a  spray  of 
oran  ge-blossoms . 

"  And  see,  Ferdinand,  in  this  bouquet  there  are  also 
four  sprays.  Is  it  not  singular  ? 

"  But  I  cried  so  bitterly,  and  our  boy  said  to  me, 
'Little  mother,  do  not  cry;  dry  your  tears,  and  weep 
no  more  for  us.  We  are  happy,  and  we  are  always 
with  you,  even  if  you  do  not  see  us ;  and  when  you  are 
sad  we  are  also  sad,  and  when  you  weep  we  must  weep 
also.' 

"  Then  I  said, '  I  will  not  be  sad  any  more.'    And  I 


UNDER    THE  STORKS'   NEST.  229 

looked  around  for  Bernhard,  but  could  not  find  him. 
'Why  did  not  you  bring  Bernhard?'  I  asked. 

"  'Bernhard  is  not  here,'  they  said. 

"  I  turned  around,  and  there  you  were  with  Bernhard, 
leading  him  to  me  by  the  hand;  you  were  both  clad 
in  the  garments  of  earth,  and  you  said,  as  I  clasped 
my  boy  iu  my  arms,  'Here,  mother,  I  bring  you  the 
lost  son.'  Then  I  awoke. 

"  Do  you  know  now  why  I  am  so  blessed  to-day  ? 
I  have  you  and  all  my  lost  ones  with  me ;  the  picture 
is  so  real  I  shall  take  it  home  to  God  with  me.  It 
will  be  soon,  Ferdinand ;  then  we  will  be  a  united, 
happy  family  for  all  time." 

A  bearded,  sunbrowned  man  entered  one  of  the  city 
portals  just  as  the  bells  of  a  familiar  house  of  worship 
rang  out  their  merry  welcoming  chimes.  "  Come, — wel- 
come; come, — welcome,"  they  seemed  to  sing  in  happy 
greeting  to  this  weary  traveler.  Long  years  of  absence, 
perils,  and  longings  were  swept  from  his  memory  as 
the  sound  of  their  music  carried  him  out  of  the  present 
into  a  vista  whose  avenue  he  had  not  traversed  since 
boyhood. 

Involuntarily  his  footsteps  led  him  to  the  old  edifice, 
as  if  in  answer  to  the  salutation  "Come, — welcome; 
come, — welcome"  of  its  bells. 

Carriages  were  standing  before  it;  people  were  enter- 
ing in  crowds ;  and,  prompted  by  an  irresistible  impulse, 
the  stranger  followed. 

The  organist  was  playing  a  low,  sweet  prelude  that 
seemed  to  awaken  emotions  in  the  breast  of  the  man 
and  bring  the  tears  to  his  eyes.  He  covered  them  with 

20 


230  UNDER    THE  STORKS'    NEST. 

his  hand.     His  bosom  rose  and  fell  with  the  pulsations 
of  his  rapidly  beating  heart. 

The  people  around  him  knew  him  not ;  and  yet  they 
may  have  been  dear  friends  in  youth.  No  glance  of 
recognition  met  his  gaze.  Change,  change  everywhere. 
Oh,  the  tormenting  waste  of  years  that  had  isolated 
him  from  home  and  love  since  first  he  had  entered 
here,  led  by  the  hand  of  his  mother ! 

Where  were  they  all, — his  mother,  the  friends  and 
companions  of  his  joyous  boyhood? 

Dead,  perhaps !  In  this  throng  of  people  he  had  no 
interest;  no  touch  of  fellowship  tendered  him  its  silent 
sympathy;  and  yet  his  homesick  heart  was  rested  and 
calmed  by  the  soothing  charm  of  sacred  sympathy. 

A  child  seated  at  its  mother's  side  in  front  of  him 
whispered  something  about  a  golden  bouquet;  but  what 
was  that  to  him  ?  Then  the  organ  played  a  wedding- 
march  ;  the  child  rose  to  its  feet  in  the  pew,  saying, 
"  Now,  mamma,  they  are  going  to  be  married  again. 
Oh,  do  see  what  a  pretty  golden  wreath  Mrs.  Berndal 
has  on  her  hair!  And  the  judge  has  a  golden  one 
on  his  bosom !" 

The  man  stooped  over  and  touched  the  lady  on  the 
arm :  he  was  excited  and  pale ;  he  asked,  wildly,  "  Who, 
who,  madam,  are  those  old  people  at  the  altar?" 

"  Judge  Berndal  and  lady,  sir." 

"  My  father !  my  mother !"  he  cried,  in  so  loud  a  tone 
that  people  turned  around  indignant  at  the  disturbance. 
Without  paying  the  least  attention,  he  rose,  and  pressed 
through  the  crowd  that  filled  the  passages  to  the  altar, 
until  he  'found  himself  near  them. 

The  ceremony  over,  the  friends  of  the  wedded  pair 


UNDER    THE  STORKS'    NEST.  231 

gathered  around  them.  The  man  went  up  to  the  min- 
ister and  addressed  him. 

"  Sir,  I  am  Judge  Berndal's  son.  I  have  just  re- 
turned home,  after  long  years  of  captivity  in  Africa. 
I  witnessed  the  ceremony  just  now  by  the  merest  acci- 
dent. I  pray,  I  beg  you,  prepare  my  parents  for  my 
unexpected  return." 

Surprised  beyond  measure,  the  old  minister  at  last 
recognized  him,  and,  bidding  him  enter  the  sacristy, 
joyfully  promised  to  prepare  his  friends  for  the  meeting 
with  their  son  Bernhard. 

Directly  they  came  in,  arm-in-arm,  to  get  their 
wrappings,  followed  by  their  more  intimate  friends.  The 
minister  said,  impressively,  taking  a  hand  of  each, — 

"Praise  ye  the  Lord,  for  He  is  mighty,  and  His 
mercy  endureth  forever. 

"  Praise  Him  in  this  hour,  for  He  has  manifested 
His  loving  care  and  rewarded  your  patient  endurance 
of  the  sorrows  He  has  seen  fit  to  place  upon  you.  He 
has  tried  you  in  sorrow  that  ye  may  be  strong  in  joy. 

"  I  cannot  say  to  the  dead,  Rise  !  But,  thanks  be  to 
God,  I  can  say  to  you,  Father,  mother,  weep  no  more. 
Your  son  lives.  Bernhard  will  be  restored  to  you. 

"  My  son  lives !  My  son !  Oh,  where  is  he  ?" 
Mrs.  Berndal  exclaimed,  while  those  around  listened  in 
sympathetic  astonishment. 

The  minister  led  the  mother  to  a  sofa,  saying,  "I 
have  news  of  him."  And  a  moment  later  Judge  Berudal 
came  to  her  leading  Bernhard. 

"  Here,  mother,  is  your  son." 


232  UNDER    THE  STORKS'    NEST. 

The  gable  house  is  ringing  with  joyful  voices  once 
more.  Uncle  Thomas  hourly  congratulates  himself  on 
the  failure  of  his  first  and  last  match-making  project. 

His  prompting  was  not  required  in  the  match  between 
the  two  long-separated  lovers;  and  when  in  due  season 
the  storks  left  a  wee  human  bud  in  the  arms  of  the 
happy  couple,  Uncle  Thomas  immediately  began  to 
buckle  extra  fine  straps  to  the  wooden  leg,  in  anticipa- 
tion of  at  last  "realizing  a  decent  use  of  the  old  peg," 
as  he  was  wont  to  say  in  gleeful  accents. 

The  garden  is  fragrant  with  shrub  and  blossom,  the 
arbor  is  overrun  with  foliage  and  vines,  this  charming 
summer  evening;  and  within  its  shady  bower  are 
gathered,  around  the  table,  a  happy  group,  waiting  for 
the  important  toddler  that  approaches  in  the  guardian- 
ship of  faithful  Mina. 

Grandma  is  preparing  his  supper  of  milk  and  biscuit 
with  such  satisfaction  as  only  grandmas  can  experience. 
Grandpa  appears  to  have  renewed  his  youth  in  watching 
this  namesake  of  himself,  this  idolized  grandchild. 

Of  course  his  parents  are  very  proud  of  him;  but 
sum  up  all  the  worship  of  the  household,  it  is  not  to 
be  compared  to  the  unbounded  adoration  and  devotion 
lavished  on  him  by  Uncle  Thomas,  who  hourly  promises 
to  abstain  from  profanity,  if  it  takes  him  all  the  rest  of 
his  life  to  bring  about  the  desired  result. 

Mrs.  Berndal  passes  the  fragrant  coffee.  Uncle 
Thomas  sips  the  scalding  Mocha  hastily,  and  exclaims, 

impatiently,  "Ugh!  thunderation !  it's  hot  as "  but 

looks  sheepishly  at  little  Freddy  before  the  sentence  is 
finished.  This  small  monitor  holds  his  spoon  up  in 
warning,  and  lisps, — 


UNDER    THE  STORKS'    NEST.  233 

"Uncle  Thomas  naughty!  spank-urn." 
Augusta  admonishes  her  son  not  to  be  bold;  but  the 
old  gentleman  limps  over  and  lifts  him  on  to  his  knee, 
and  soon,  he  is  riding  to  some  foreign  land,  beyond 
mamma's  reproaches,  on  that  serviceable  wooden  horse. 
When  the  little  man  wishes  to  alight,  and  his  request 
is  not  immediately  obeyed,  he  shouts,  "Down,  thunder 
you,  down !"  Then  Uncle  Thomas  hangs  his  head,  and 
registers  another  vow  never  to  swear  again,  while  cogi- 
tating on  the  wisdom  of  the  author  who  wrote,  "Evil 
communications  corrupt  good  manners." 

And  Freddy  runs  into  the  garden,  and  halloos  to 
those  long-billed,  long-legged  luck-birds  on  the  chim- 
ney,— 

"  Oh,  stork,  stork,  you  Esther, 
Fetch  me  a  little  sister  !" 

The  stork  gazes  in  meditative  wisdom  down  into  the 
nest  where  his  mate  broods  over  her  young,  and  then 
on  to  the  gable-roof,  beneath  the  protection  of  which  joy 
and  peace  abound,  and  hope  betides. 


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iast  named  brilliant  works  of  fiction 
(Granville  de  Vigne  and  Strathmore) 
will  be  sure  to  read  Chandos.  It  is 
characterized  by  the  same  gorgeous 


Under  Two  Flags.     A  Story  of  the  Household  and 

the  Desert.     By  "  OuiDA,"  author  of  "  Tricotrin,"  "  Gran- 
ville de  Vigne,"  etc.      I2mo.     Cloth.     $1.50. 


"  No  one  will  be  able  to  resist  its 
f«cination  who  once  begins  its  peru- 
M!  "  —  Phila.  Evening  Bulletin. 

"  This  is  probably  the  most  popular 
»ork  of  Ouida.  It  is  enough  of  itself 


to  establish  her  fame  as  one  of  the 
most  eloquent  and  graphic  writers  of 
fiction  now  living." — Chicago  Journal 
of  Commerce. 


Pu-:k.     His   Vicissitudes,  Adventures,  Observations, 

Conclusions,  Friendship  and  Philosophies.  By  "  OuiDA," 
author  of  "Strathmore,"  "Idalia,"  "Tricotrin,"  etc. 
I2mo.  Fine  cloth.  $1.50. 

"  Its  quaintness  will  provoke  laugh 
ter,  while  the  interest  in  the  central 


character  is  kept  up  unabated" — Al- 
lany  Journai. 


"  It  sustains  the  widely-spread  popo« 
brityof  the  author." — Pittsburgh  G* 

zette. 


PUBLICATIONS  OF  J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  &•  CO. 


The  Old  Mam' sellers  Secret.     From  the  German  of 

E.  Marlitt,  author  of  "  Gold   Elsie,"  etc.     By  Mrs.  A.  L. 
WISTER.     Sixth  edition.     lamo.     Cloth.     $1.50. 


"  A  more  charming  story,  and  one 
which,  having  once  commenced,  it 
seemed  more  difficult  to  leave,  we 
have  not  met  with  for  many  a  day." — 
The  Round  Table. 

"  Is  one  of  the  most  intense,  con- 


centrated, compact  novels  of  the  day. 
.  .  .  And  the  work  has  the  minute 
fidelity  of  the  author  of  '  The  Initials,1 
the  dramatic  unity  of  Reade  and  th» 
graphic  power  of  George  Eliot" 
Columbus  (O.)  Journal. 


Gold  Elsie.    From  the  German  of  E.  Marlitt,  authoi 

of  "  The  Old   Mam'selle's  Secret,"  etc.     By  Mrs.   A.    L 
WISTER.     Fifth  edition.     I2mo.     Cloth.     $1.50. 

"  A  charming  book.  It  absorbs 
your  attention  from  the  title-page  to 
the  fnd." — The  Home  Circle. 


"  A     charming     story     charmingl} 
told." — Baltimore  Gazette. 


Countess  Gisela.     From  the  German  of  E.  Marlitt, 

author   of  «'  Gold   Elsie,"   etc.     By    Mrs.   A.   L.   WISTER. 
Third  edition.     I2mo.     Cloth.     $1.50. 


est  of  the  reader  from  the  outset."— 
Pittsburgh  Gazette. 

"  The  best  work  by  this  author."— 
Philadelphia  Telegraph. 


"There  is  more  dramatip  power  in 
this  than  in  any  of  the  stories  by  the 
same  author  that  we  have  read." — N. 
O  Times. 

"  It  is  a  story  that  arouses  the  inter- 

Over   Yonder.     From  the   German   of  E.  Marlitt, 

author  of  "  Countess   Gisela,"  etc.     Third  edition.     With 
a  full-page  Illustration.     8vo.     Paper  cover.     30  cents. 


"'Over  Yonder'  is  a  charming 
novelette.  The  admirers  of  '  Old 
Mam'selle's  Secret '  will  give  it  a  glad 
reception,  while  those  who  are  ignor- 


ant of  the  merits  of  this  author  will 
find  in  it  a  pleasant  introduction  to  thi 
works  of  a  gifted  writer." — Daily  Sen- 
tinel. 


The  Little  Moorland  Princess.     From  the  German 

of  E.  Marlitt,  author  of  "  The   Old    Mam'selle's  Secret," 
"  Gold  Elsie,"  etc.     By  Mrs.  A.  L.  WISTER.     Fourth  edi- 
tion.    I2mo.     Fine  cloth.     $1.75. 
•*  By  far  the  best  foreign  romance  of  |  up  to  its  balmy  influence."  — 


the  season."  —  Philadelphia  Press.  Evening  Journal. 

"  It  is  a  great  luxury  to  give  one's  self 

Magdalena.  From  the  German  of  E.  Marlittt 
author  of"  Countess  Gisela,"  etc.  And  THE  LONELY  ONES 
("The  Solitaries").  From  the  German  of  Paul  Heyse. 
With  two  Illustrations.  8vo.  Paper  cover.  35  cents. 


"We  know  of  no  way  in  which  a 
'eisure  hour  may  be  more  pleasantly 
whiled  away  than  by  a  perusal  oi 


either  of  these  tales."  —  Indiani\pol* 
Sentinel. 


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